Hogwarts Hero
by FatesMistake
Summary: Harry Potter's life is ruled by Murphy's Law: Everything that can go wrong, will. This time, a poorly timed ancient spell turns him into a freak of nature. Harry must learn to cope with new limbs, new enemies, and new friends. And, of course, Severus is always there to lend a helping hand. Creature Fic. SSHP. Little bit of cutting. You've been warned.
1. Chapter 1

McGonagall didn't know what she had been thinking, allowing Albus to talk her into teaching her Seventh Years how to become animagi. She couldn't even remember the majority of his arguments, only something about how they deserved the opportunity to do so in a safe environment. A disastrous experiment, at best. Currently, there were five students who had been caught mid-transformation, and three who'd managed to transform and had promptly passed out after looking at themselves in the mirror (Longbottom was literally a bear to move). Granted, the rest had gone according to plan, some transforming completely whilst others were not yet ready…all except Potter. The scarred young man who was still trying to pretend he was a normal child had been caught in the midst of his transformation when his body had convulsed severely. The most alarming moment had been when different body parts had begun changing.

When the young Gryffindor had eventually lain prone, he was nothing short of odd. From his shoulders sprouted raven wings; his entire lower half was a somehow-humanoid form of a powerful lion, though the tail was that of a long, thin snake; his ears had moved to the top of his head and grown black-white fur while becoming pointed; and a quick inspection of his face had exposed fangs as well as canines where his premolars should have been, a forked tongue slightly smaller than a normal tongue might have been, and green eyes quite obviously feline in nature. For now, he was as unconscious as his peers in the Hospital Wing, but where they had been returned to their natural human state, no potion, spell, or combination of the two had affected Harry Potter's changed appearance. Minerva was understandably concerned over what would occur when he woke, due to the massive spike in his core leaving him in a magically-induced coma. They could only guess when his magic would let him awaken, and hoped fretfully that it would be when his muscles had healed from the stress of the transformations and convulsions. The only Professor who seemed unconcerned with the wizarding savior was the Potions Master, who merely studied the body with burning curiosity.

Granted, they were all curious. Poppy had been forced to strip the boy of his clothing, which had been shredded during the dozen or so transformations, while Albus, Minerva, and Severus had been scanning the different limbs separately, trying different means of finding the source of his magical spike. The four had been shocked, to say the least, when they discovered his bare torso was covered in scars, and on his legs black scars stood out starkly in the golden fur. Parts of his abdomen were blackened, as if bruised, and scans had shown that this was due to multiple slow bleeds from an extended period of abuse. Had none of them known any better, they'd have thought he was a Muggle boxer. None, though, had been as surprised or angry as the Headmaster, who had sworn aloud for the first time any of them had heard and swept from the room with thunder in his ice blue eyes. When they had determined that nothing more could be done, the absent Headmaster had called his Heads of House to his office.

Once they had all gathered, Minerva was the first to speak. "Albus, I told you of my suspicions before you ever even left him there!" She chided angrily.

The normally confident wizard looked every bit his age as he nodded sadly. "Yes, Minerva, I am aware. I had thought Petunia would-" He stopped with a wince when the Slytherin Head of House hissed angrily.

"You knew of her attitude towards her own sister, and you thought she would treat the spawn of Lily any different?" Snape demanded in a deadly tone.

The Headmaster nodded again. "I had, in fact. Harry has come to me a few times over the years to discuss being sent anywhere over the Summer period, including being kept here, but I had assumed…hoped…that it was due merely to emotional neglect, something that would strengthen him against Voldemort. I never thought Petunia would…" He trailed off again. "Harry is 17 now, so he will never have to return to that place, that is what matters. The Dursley's will be dealt with in due course, but for now we need to concentrate on the pressing matter of his current condition. Poppy has healed his wounds, and most of his scars have been taken away thanks to Severus' potions. This leaves us with the problem of his partial transformation. I believe I may have found the answer."

He gestured to a large tome that lay open on his desk and the four professors stepped forward to read it. It detailed a ritual originally intended for the barbaric Olde ways of discovering one's animagus form, before Potions had come available. None of the professors understood the implications until they reached the end, where it detailed a specific complication involving the meshing of magics. A magical bonding had taken place between Potter and some other magical entity.

"What does this mean, Albus?" Sprout asked cautiously.

Flitwick's voice squeaked from the chair he stood on. "You don't truly think that Mister Potter has-"

"I do, Filius…Hogwarts has claimed our dear Harry. This has never happened, as far as I know, except to a Headmaster, and never to a level such as this. When Harry attempted the transformation whilst injured, Hogwarts herself used the connection between Harry and the castle to infuse his magic with the ancient magic of Hogwart's heart. As the heart of Hogwarts itself was infused with the magic of the four founders, Harry is now essentially the magical heir to them all," Albus explained calmly. "I spoke with Gringotts, the vaults of the founders, untouched since their deaths besides a small heirloom vault accessed by Marvolo Gaunt, have been transferred to his name."

"What will this mean for Potter?" Snape asked evenly.

The old wizard sighed. "From what I could find out, the effect should be similar to when Hogwarts claims a new Headmaster. He is bound to the castle until his death, able to leave for short periods, a few days at most, before his magic draws him back. Additionally, due to the extent of the bond, his core is now four times as powerful, and he will likely excel at any subject the founders did. Unfortunately, not much is known about the founders."

Minerva frowned. "But why did the bond manifest this way? How long will he be stuck with animalistic features? He's a lion, snake, raven and badger, the reception when he wakes to see himself as such will not be pleasant."

"I imagine not, no," The Headmaster agreed. "However, I know little about it. The manifestation was likely due to what he was attempting when the bond had completed. His body wasn't strong enough for the transformation, and when he fell into the convulsions, Hogwarts completed the bonding. There is no way to know how long the transformation will last, it could be with him for the rest of his life."

"The poor dear, he'll be so distraught," Sprout murmured sadly.

The Potions Master sneered. "If I were to be concerned, it would not be over the _boy's_ reaction, but on that of his peers. Children can be cruel, and Potter will instill fear as well as jealousy when what has happened comes to light. Many within the school, and without, will shun him as a freak of magic."

"What do you suggest, Severus?" Albus asked. "We could perhaps keep him from the students…"

"I won't lock him away like some circus freak," Minerva interrupted angrily.

"No," Snape said firmly. "Locking him away will only breed more fear, and convince the jealous students that he is receiving yet more special treatment. The only thing we can do, as his professor's, is behave as though nothing has changed. If we treat him the same, it may show some of the more uncertain students that he is still just Harry Potter. We can't hope to prevent all of the cruelty, the world will tremble at never-before-seen magic such as this, but we can at least keep most of the students on his side by being on his side as well."

The four professors looked at the Potions Master curiously.

"That is a surprising insight on your part, Severus," Albus said quietly. "Your history with the boy would suggest that you might…"

"Might what?" Snape growled.

"Relish young Potter's torture at the hands of the student body," Sprout said boldly, finishing the Headmaster's thought.

The Potions Master snarled at them. "Despite your opinions, I do not hate Potter. I have, in the past, allowed my history with his parents to affect my actions towards him, but I would never intentionally put the boy in harm's way. We will have to be wary on Potter's behalf, the boy trusts too easily; there will be many who will try to take advantage of him, or hurt him. Some may even attempt to kill him because of his differences and new power, perceiving him a threat."

"Surely you don't think the students would…" McGonagall broke off as the Potions Master pulled aside his robe and shirt to expose his collar bone and chest where a long white scar stood out. A souvenir from when Sirius Black had tried to kill him by sending him after a werewolf.

Albus Dumbledore sighed gravely. "Then all we can do is hope for the best…"


	2. Chapter 2

The best was perhaps too much to hope for, it seemed. By the time Harry had woken, the school had been informed of what had happened (by which, of course, the Head Boy and Girl had been informed and it had then spread like wildfire through the school). Unfortunately, the children behaved similarly to the way Snape had predicted. Curiosity predominated in the first few days, many students meeting "accidents" that demanded they go to the hospital wing. Once the majority of the student body had witnessed the strange transformation of the Wizarding Savior, judgment was passed. The story was in the paper by the next morning, and the article had helped to incite fear in the students and many outside of the school, letters coming in droves demanding the removal of the boy. Apparently, this newest event surrounding the Boy Who Lived was an omen that he was a Dark Lord in the making (as Skeeter had proclaimed loudly in the headlines), because no wizard could be so powerful as to hold five magical cores and not be considered a dangerous being, especially since the ritual that had done this was considered dark. Few recognized that Merlin himself had performed the ritual and had held three magical cores within himself at his death; even fewer recalled everything that Harry Potter had done in _defense_ of the Wizarding World.

Whispered words of fear and anger could be heard throughout the corridors of Hogwarts, but either from pride or recognition of their own foolishness, no parents had yet begun demanding their _own_ children be sent home. When Potter did wake, it was with luck that the four Heads of House and the Headmaster had been present, discussing whether the students yet posed a threat to the Gryffindor's life.

 _-Break-_

Harry became aware slowly, an unusual weight under his shoulders and his legs rubbing uncomfortably against the sheets. "What-" He croaked, trying to push himself into a sitting position only to have his hands slip on something soft and delicate. He shuddered as he fell back, that strange weight on his shoulders suddenly shifting, and tried again, this time his hands landing firmly on the bedspread.

"Headmaster, he's awake!" He heard Madame Pomfrey hiss excitedly.

The young wizard blinked his eyes open groggily to see his Headmaster and four of his professor's staring at him from the end of his bed while Pomfrey bustled around to his right, casting spells. All but Snape were looking at him with fear and concern, while the Potions Master was simply looking on without emotion. He focused on the solid black eyes, knowing he'd get more truth from them, even if it was scathingly said.

"What happened?"

It was Dumbledore who spoke, though. "You were in an accident whilst attempting to perform the animagus transformation."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking the glass of water the hospital matron handed him. "I know, I had what felt like a seizure. I meant what happened after I passed out. I remember my body felt like I had fire and ice flowing in my veins all at once, but then I lost consciousness before I had even stopped flopping around like a fish."

The three concerned professor's hesitated, and Harry looked at Snape questioningly. The man obliged him with an answer. "You were caught mid-transformation." He conjured a mirror beside the bed and Harry threw off his blankets, ignoring Pomfrey's protests, and stood on wobbly legs. Immediately there was a firm hand on his bicep, holding him up as he regained his footing. When he felt brave enough, he opened his eyes to look at his reflection.

"Well, hell…" He muttered blithely. "Explains why I'm having trouble standing." He reached down and poked at the sinuous thigh covered in fur that poked out of the shorts he'd been put in, then held up a paw to wiggle what had once been toes. He was concentrating so much on watching the new claws slide in and out at will that he was startled when the weight on his shoulders shifted again. He looked up to see blue-black wings contracting and relaxing against his shoulders. He concentrated again and watched as the wings began to expand slowly. When the Potions Master, who was still standing close in case he lost his footing again, cursed because the wings had hit him, Harry felt a twitch on the top of his head. He reached up and fingered the ear that had twitched, admiring his new, sharp teeth and cat's eyes as he did so.

Finally, he spoke again, turning to the professors as he became steadier on his new feet. "Let me guess: you know why, you know how, but you have no idea how long, right?" They all nodded. "Great, figures; What's the popular vote?" Harry asked, gesturing to the doors of the Hospital Wing. Every single one of the professors looked away guiltily. "Yeah, that figures, too. Am I to be sent away?"

"No, Harry," Albus said softly. "We have decided to behave as though nothing is wrong. You'll return to classes after being kept here for a few days of observation; your friends will also be allowed to visit, and then you'll be treated like any other student, with some additional tutoring from the professor's until we've discovered the extent of the magic you've absorbed."

"Magic? I thought it was just a messed up transformation…" Harry said worriedly, watching out of the corner of his eye as the mirror revealed a limb he hadn't been aware of. "Wait, I have a tail?! A snake's tail?"

"From what we can tell, it behaves similarly to a fifth limb, Mister Potter," Pomfrey spoke, pushing him back towards the bed. "I've spent the last hour and a half while you were waking up having to take something out of your grip because you keep picking items up with it. Now I can respect your desire to know what has happened to you, but there is no reason you shouldn't be in bed while you listen!" She huffed as Harry tested the strength of his new legs. Immediately, her efforts became futile. "Mister Potter, I will not hesitate to knock you out again!" She warned, drawing her wand.

Harry, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, put up his hands placatingly, smirking. "Alright, Madame Pomfrey, I meant no harm." He crawled back into the bed, but reorganized the sheets so that they lay over his torso only. The matron scowled and cast a cooling charm on the bedding before yanking them back down to where they belonged. He pouted slightly, shifting his furry legs around, then yelped when his tail got caught in his battle with the sheets, he flicked it out instinctively, and nearly slapped the matron with it. He blushed when she scowled at him. "Sorry, this stuff is going to take some getting used to, and the weight of the blanket is uncomfortable on my…well, fur."

The matron huffed again and waved the wand still in her hand, banishing the blanket to the other side of the room. Harry shifted around some more, positioning his legs, tail, and wings so that he could comfortably sit back against the pillows she was stacking behind him. When he was finally comfortable, his wings partially extended and his tail curled beside him, he looked at the four professors expectantly. The Headmaster explained what had occurred briefly, any details he left out being filled in by the scowling Gryffindor and Slytherin Heads of House. Harry smirked each time they did it, glad that at least two people had decided he deserved to know the whole truth. When they finished explaining how the public was taking the news of this newest in a long line of things that set him apart, they looked at him worriedly, the Potions Master showing his own concern by taking a step back.

Harry smiled at the professor's softly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to blow up. After seven years of being tossed back and forth between good guy and bad guy in public opinion, I'm just not bothered by it anymore. It'll blow over eventually, and even if it doesn't, I'll cope, as I always have. The only thing I'm really worried about is this 'not leaving the grounds' issue. There aren't exactly a lot of employment opportunities for when I graduate next May if I'm stuck here at the school, and I think Professor Jones might actually stick around, so even if I decide to teach there wouldn't be an open position. Although, I suppose I could assist Madame Hooch in flying lessons." He grinned as he flexed his wings playfully, eliciting smirks of amusement from his professor's.

"Term only just started, Mister Potter," McGonagall said softly. "I'm sure between now and then we can work out something for you to do. In the meantime, there are some anxious redheads who have been very worried about you. Are you feeling up to visitors?"

Harry looked at Pomfrey who pursed her lips but nodded tersely. He grinned. "Yeah, absolutely." He settled back further into his pillows, thanking his professors as they left. After a few minutes, the room was invaded by redheads.

"Oh, Harry dear, we've been so worried!" Molly Weasley cried, hugging him awkwardly. Harry hissed as she pulled a feather from his wing in her excitement. "I'm sorry, dear!" She exclaimed, pulling back sharply.

Harry rubbed the tender area and picked up the feather. "It's okay, Mrs. Weasley, I'm still getting used to them myself. Here," He held out the large feather. "Consider it a thank you gift for being here when I woke up."

The Weasley matriarch took the feather with a sad smile. "Where else would we be, Harry? Family doesn't abandon one another just because they're different, dear."

"Yeah, baby brother," One of the twins spoke up, sidling up beside him and sitting on the headboard behind one wing while the other twin sat behind the other.

"You're an honorary Weasley, you're stuck with us." The other twin said, ruffling his hair.

They were shooed away by Ron and Ginny, who took up positions on either side of the bed, sitting down and hugging him tightly. Harry hugged them back. "I'm really glad. I was a little worried that…well, that maybe I'd become too different."

Ron smacked him upside the head. "I know I've been a jealous prat in the past, Harry, but geez, we're 7th Years now, I'm not gonna leave you alone just 'cause you've got some neat new limbs."

"Ron's right, Harry, he's been a jealous prat in the past," Ginny said sweetly, earning a swat from her brother and making Harry chuckle. "But all of us love you, you're family. And besides, your new limbs are awesome."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, Gin…speaking of, you're kind of sitting on my tail." He shifted said tail slightly, sliding it out from under the sheets to pull at her hair.

The young witch jumped up with a yelp, then glared at him as he laughed raucously. "Harry James Potter, that wasn't funny!" Harry continued to laugh, and eventually the girl gave in, sitting back down by his feet and chuckling as well.

"It's good to see you're taking this so well, Harry," Arthur Weasley said, standing at the end of his bed. "Charlie sends his regards, says he'll try to come down at Christmas to see you, and Bill said he'd come around this evening to bring you some treats from Diagon Alley. Also, apparently the Goblins are sending him along with some paperwork you'll have to look over. We got permission from the Headmaster to stay with you until you're out of the hospital wing, although Ron and Ginny will be attending their classes and bringing you your homework. If there's anything you need, just let us know, alright?"

"Thanks, Mister Weasley. Right now, I wouldn't mind having my school books, since I'm sure I've fallen way behind in my classes. And I wouldn't mind some food, either, to be honest. I haven't eaten in a week, my body's just been sustained by my magic and some potions," Harry said, giving the group his best puppy eyes. Immediately, Fred and George disappeared to retrieve his school things from Gryffindor tower, wanting to visit their old dorm, and Molly left to the kitchens with Ginny to make sure the House Elves made Harry's favorites. Arthur left as well, citing that he had to return to work for a few hours, but would be back, leaving Ron alone with Harry.

"I'm sorry you got caught in this mess, Harry," Ron started hesitantly. Harry's cat eyes saw Snape enter the Hospital Wing silently, watching as the man tried to hide in the shadows. "It seems like any time something bad happens, it happens to you. You just can't seem to catch a break."

The wizarding savior smiled at his longtime friend. "I'll be fine, Ron, and I'll adjust. Has Hermione moved into the library yet in her hunt for an answer to what happened?" It was meant as a joke, but Ron looked away guiltily. Harry frowned. "She's not looking, is she?" Ron shook his head and Harry sighed. "And I suppose she won't be visiting, either." He picked morosely at the sheets when the red head responded again in the negative.

"I'm sorry, Harry…I don't even know what her problem is. She's always been so supportive of anything odd, like her weird Spew thing, but she came to see you once, right after it happened, and when she left she was…I don't even know, it's like she thought you were going to wake up and start attacking people like you were some kind of animal. She said you were…" The taller boy trailed off uncertainly.

"A dangerous freak? A threat to the school?" Harry suggested morosely. "It's okay, Ron, it's not your fault. I'm sure you noticed before, she's been acting off ever since we got off the train, like everything is beneath her. She was worse than Malfoy, acting like she was better than us, like we were blessed to even be in her presence…Sometimes people grow up and turn into people we don't like."

"Yeah, but why? What could make 'Mione act like everyone was put on this Earth to please her?!" The redhead demanded angrily.

Harry shook his head. "I dunno, Ron, I really don't. Do you think you could do something for me, though?"

His friend looked over sharply. "Anything, Harry."

"Think you could go down to the kitchens and make sure your mum gets me something utterly unhealthy? I can still taste the nutrition potions that Pomfrey's been forcing down my throat for the last week," He made a face, making his friend chuckle.

"Sure, Harry, I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't worry about 'Mione, okay? Even if she doesn't come around, you've got lots of friends besides her. Even the Slytherins have been telling her off when she starts one of her nasty speeches in the courtyard about how dangerous you are. I'll be back." The boy wandered out of the room quickly, passing Snape still hidden in the shadows without realizing it.

The room was silent as Harry curled into a ball, fighting back his tears. "Is it true, Professor?"

"Your friend has little tact to speak of, Potter, but yes it's true. Miss Granger has been rallying many of the students against you. Most of your own House has begun listening to her, as have the majority of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but there are those in every house who have been trying to fight against the ignorance of their friends. Your little transformation has created a serious dissolution of House loyalty everywhere but within Slytherin," The Potions Master explained calmly. "It is as you said, Potter; you have been the target of their scorn and ridicule in the past, and you must once more soldier on."

Harry scoffed a humorless chuckle. "An interesting choice of words, sir, considering I was exactly that. I was their soldier, and like any good soldier I've done my job too well and instilled fear in the hearts that loved me. Any chance I could start hiding in the dungeons like you?" He was met with a dangerous glare. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. Why are you here?"

"I returned to be certain that you were coping as well as you claimed, when I noticed that you had almost immediately sent your adoptive family from your bedside on errands your elf could have easily carried out. Obviously, the exercise was not in vain."

"Thanks, sir…I think I'd have been fine if Hermione had come. She's always been like my rock, an unwavering source of support when everyone else abandoned me," Harry murmured, sighing deeply. He felt his wings expand and retract with his breath.

"She'll come around, Potter."

"What if she doesn't?"

"Then you'll find new support," Snape growled, obviously growing impatient with Harry's self-pity. "You have plenty of friends who remain close to you, and my Slytherins have become as stubborn as Gryffindors in their defense of you."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked over at the Potions Master. "Why? They've all been the worst, encouraging people to hate me even when I _wasn't_ being criticized for something."

"I imagine it is due to the way most of them were raised, Potter." Snape told him, stepping further into the room. "Most of them come from old blood, if not necessarily pure, and thus are far more aware of the old rituals. They know from experience that some rituals, such as the one you underwent, while considered dark now, were once a common happenstance and have only come to be considered dark due to misuse. Even the Muggleborn Slytherins have been taught this since the day they arrived at Hogwarts."

Harry considered this. "Makes sense, and explains why Slytherin is considered to be the house of dark wizards. I mean, they're raised knowing that magic is neither light nor dark, it's the intent behind it, so they aren't as scrupulous about using the spells available to them no matter the classification." He grinned at the professor who now stood beside his bed. "What do you think it'd take to get them to teach me some of that not-dark magic? I've still got quite a few boogeymen looking to kill me, so being able to defend myself properly, with whatever means, would be useful."

Snape sighed. "A week ago I'd have said you would be required to beg and plead, but now I think they'd jump at the chance, if only to observe your raw power as you learn. Slytherins are naturally drawn to power, and you are now the most powerful wizard in our world. However, should you choose to pursue this path, I would ask that you do it under my supervision, as it can be dangerous without proper guidance."

Harry's grin widened. "Admit it, you're curious. Not just about my power, either, I saw the way you were looking at my transformations, you want to know how everything works." The Potions Master scowled at the teasing tone, sneering at him. "Alright, you don't have to admit it," Harry placated, raising his hands. He concentrated and felt his fingernails extend into thick, sharp points, watching from the corner of his eye as the man leaned forward slightly to observe the as-yet unnoticed change. "But, since you've been so nice to me, despite our differences, all you have to do is ask once I'm out of this forsaken Hospital wing, and I'll give you a full demonstration. As it is, I seem to instinctively know how to use everything but my legs, and I'm sure it won't take long to get used to walking on that much power." Snape raised an eyebrow, his eyes shifting to the legs thinly veiled under the sheet. Harry smirked, answering the unasked question. "The muscles in my new legs feel like they're tightly coiled and powerful, like I could run really far, really fast, or jump really high."

As if to prove his point, Harry stood from the bed, flexing his fingers as he looked at the claws at the tip. He smirked at his professor, who seemed somewhat alarmed at how quickly he'd moved from the bed, then crouched, feeling the muscles in his legs coil tighter. With a final smirk at his professor, he launched himself into the air, landing on the sill of the high window above his bed. Feeling that his legs could have carried him higher if he'd aimed for it, Harry sat heavily, very glad that the Hospital Wing had such tall ceilings. He was nearly shocked off of his perch by a loud screech.

"Mister Potter! I don't care that you have the power of the four founders, I will tie you to your bed if you don't come down this instant! I told you to remain lying down!" Madame Pomfrey screamed up at him.

Harry bowed his head, giving her a chagrined smile. "Sorry, Madame Pomfrey, I wanted to stretch my legs. I had _no idea_ that jumping would carry me this far." He heard an amused snort from the Potions Master, and noted that the hospital matron wasn't buying his story. He sighed and expanded his wings slightly as he pushed himself off of the window. Pomfrey screamed again as he fell several feet before his wings caught him, lowering him slowly onto the bed. He crossed his legs and blushed as the matron glared at him.

"Mister Potter, I…" She trailed off in frustration, taking a deep breath. "Every year you have come in here broken, bruised, missing bones, or some other increasingly frustrating combination of the above, and every year you refuse to listen to my orders when I tell you to remain in your bed. Do you wish a heart attack on me, Harry? Is that your ultimate goal for this old Mediwitch?"

Harry felt suddenly very ashamed. "No, Madame Pomfrey, I'm sorry."

"Then stay in bed, Mister Potter!" Suddenly, the woman cast several spells at once, lying Harry out firmly against the pillows, the sheets tucking around his lower torso so tightly that he could do little more than wiggle his tail from underneath him. "Molly should be back with your tray in a few moments, and then I want you to rest. Your body is not fully recovered from the magical-coma yet."

The matron walked away in a huff and Harry struggled against his sheet, finally getting his hands free. He heard a snort and looked over to see Snape trying desperately to hide silent laughter behind his hand.

"It's not funny, Professor," Harry growled. He stopped short, realizing that he had actually growled his words. This sent Snape deeper into his fits of laughter and Harry crossed his arms over his chest in a deliberate pout. "Sure, laugh at the freak," He muttered sourly. The man shot him a small glare, finally bringing his quiet chuckles under control.

"I apologize, Mister Potter…had it been someone else, however, I'm sure you would have found the situation as humorous as I did. My laughter had nothing to do with your appearance and everything to do with you being scolded by a woman who has made my every visit to this forsaken wing a living nightmare," Snape explained, apparently angry at the accusation.

Harry threw his head back against the pillows, glad she'd at least left him sitting up. "No kidding, she takes her job way too seriously sometimes. Then again, I'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for her, so I guess it wouldn't kill me to put up with it for a few days until I'm released."

Snape smirked and turned to leave the wing. "You are a stronger man than I, Potter." He said over his shoulder as he left.

Harry snorted and relaxed back into his pillows. Part of him wanted to question why Snape was suddenly being so…maybe not nice…approachable, but the rest of him was simply grateful for it. After finding out in his 5th year that the man had risked his life daily by spying and giving them what they needed to kill Snakeface once and for all, Harry had watched the Potions Master, and would occasionally glimpse the person he could be, the man currently leaving the Hospital Wing. Sure, it had never been aimed towards him before, but Harry wasn't stupid. He knew Snape had still been holding a grudge against Harry's dad, and he also knew that it hadn't been his own magic that had healed Vernon's parting gift. He knew better than anyone that it was hard to hold a grudge when faced with the fact that firstly, you weren't all that different, and secondly, the things you have in common suck and you're a prat if you make that person's life even worse. So what if Snape wanted to act as though the years of torment didn't happen? If the school had turned against Harry as much as everyone's eyes suggested (fear: fear that clearly said they worried for his safety) then he could use what allies he could get. And unlike Sirius, he was willing to forget the past for a chance at feeling just a little safer in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry glared angrily at his reflection as his thigh flexed and tore his trousers yet again. Each time he repaired them, he merely had to move his leg, or simply twitch with the desire to move (his new legs, after so long staying idle, seemed to want to run a marathon…or ten of them), and the fabric would split again.

He turned as he heard someone moving the curtain around his bed and saw Snape coming through the partition. The Potions Master smirked. "The warden has sent me to inquire if you need help. How long does it take to get dressed, Potter?"

Harry scowled at the man. He'd been a near constant visitor in the week since Harry had woken, helping him catch up on his schoolwork, or bringing him books when he found himself advancing beyond where the schoolwork ended. The man seemed as interested as he was in his newfound abilities. His interests hadn't changed, per se, but the subjects he had always been fascinated by he now found he was capable of pursuing: potions, transfiguration, even ancient runes (which apparently required a particular strain of magic to properly understand), practically every subject within the school, and several that were touched or mentioned but never covered, just seemed to soak into his mind. It wasn't as if he immediately understood the subjects, though; it was simply as though he grasped the information more easily.

"I'd like to see you put clothes on in my condition. I can't even begin to imagine how I'm going to put a shirt or shoes on, and because I decided I didn't want to wear clothing meant for a whale, my new slacks keep ripping over my legs. These thighs were not meant to stay dormant…I'm going to have to start a ridiculously vigorous exercise regimen just to keep the twitching at a minimum," Harry huffed, folding his arms over his bare chest, his wand still in his fist and his wings folding tightly against his shoulders. He could feel his ears lying flat against his head, and his tail flicking back and forth behind him in his frustration. Thankfully, Snape had also helped him learn the parameters of his new form, so he didn't cause damage as he had at first when his animal limbs reacted to his moods.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, staring as though he were being daft, and the seventh year simply looked back defiantly. "Have you forgotten how to use that wand, Potter?"

"Of course not, but it's not like I expected any of this to happen, so I don't exactly know the spells that would fix my problem. And yes, I tried loosening my pants, and all that did was make it harder to move. I'm completely out of ideas. But, please, continue staring at me as though I'm a dumb First Year, it's sure to do wonders for my predicament," Harry grumbled angrily.

Black eyes narrowed in a scowl. "Watch your cheek, Potter." The Potions Master growled warningly.

The younger wizard bit his tongue to prevent yet another sarcastic remark, and glared at the man, his claws extending slightly with his growing agitation.

"The pants are simple, you need only to spell them to expand with your legs," Snape said. The black wand appeared seemingly from nowhere and swished violently as Snape muttered the appropriate spells to repair and stretch the material. "As for your shirt and your shoes, an exception can be made in the rules for you to be barefoot as they aren't exactly feet any longer, and your school shirt can be accommodated." He cast another spell on the shirt that lay on the bed, and it appeared on Harry's abdomen, laying open. Snape frowned and cast another spell to close the buttons, but the material refused to stretch. He tried expanding the material, but by the time the shirt could button over Harry's wing joints, the edges began to unravel from the material being over-exerted. Finally, he canceled the expansion spell.

"Leave it open?" Harry asked, smirking. He raised an eyebrow at his professor. "A touch risqué, Professor. Shoes are one thing, but an open shirt? The school may die of shock."

Snape scowled harder and raised his wand once more, banishing the shirt as a bandage wrapped snugly around the middle of the younger wizard's abdomen. When it was done, it covered the upper portion of his ribs, hiding his chest halfway up. The Potions Master smirked at his handiwork as he spelled the boys robe on over the ensemble, and then turned to leave.

"It's a bit tight!" Harry called teasingly. He heard a growl of frustration from the other side of the curtain and chuckled, following after the man. He caught up halfway down the wing and his legs shuddered with the desire to keep going as he slowed. "Thank you, though. I'll speak with Professor Flitwick about some charms that may help. Maybe someone somewhere decided to put a sweater on a Hippogriff once."

Snape snorted at the thought and they walked in silence. Due to the growing agitation amongst the student body, it had been agreed that Harry would be re-sorted in the Great Hall. In an effort to make it seem as though the first ever re-sorting weren't special treatment, the option had been given to the rest of the school. A number of other students had opted into it as well, the dissolution of the Houses apparently causing several students to wish to move away from their peers.


	4. Chapter 4

"Colin Creevey!"

The small boy hurried up the short steps and sat on the stool, after handing his baby brother his camera. The sixth year had matured greatly since his first term, but he still adored Harry and worshipped his camera. He smirked at the Gryffindors who were surprised at his defection, having been a proud Gryffindor until Harry had changed.

"Slytherin!" The hall remained silent, as per the Headmaster's orders, and Colin moved to his new House after gathering his camera. He sat beside Susan Bones and Lavender Brown, who had already re-sorted.

"Dennis Creevey!"

"Slytherin!"

"Neville Longbottom!"

"Slytherin!"

The trend continued with Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy (which had sent giggles through the group of re-sorters and the Slytherin table), Parvati and Padma Patil, for Harry (no surprise to any of them), and the two youngest Weasley's. Snape had groaned audibly at the last two, despite how obvious the choice was going to be, which had made several of the older years chuckle knowingly. Harry smirked at the Potions Master, realizing how mortifying it must be for Weasley's to step foot in his House. The quiet laughter stopped, however, when Hermione Granger shouted in the otherwise silent Hall.

"It's a cheat! Never in the history of Hogwarts has that many people been sorted into a single house! Potter has to have spelled the Hat!" This stirred the three tables that had been robbed of members into angry, accusatory muttering.

The Hat spoke in its own defense, the brim opening wider than any had seen it do before. "Enough!" It shouted, the gravelly voice echoing in the Hall. "You silly girl! Nearly twelve centuries, and never has my decision been questioned! I am the Sorting Hat, given life by the great Gryffindor and imbued by each of the founders, and not even their magical heir could bend my will. I was tasked with placing students where they could best succeed, and have always done so. Any who would question my wisdom shames the name of their House Founder."

The Great Hall sat in an eerie silence when the Hat had concluded its speech, no one daring to speak against the only known _living_ remnant of the four founders. The Headmaster stood as McGonagall left with the Sorting Hat, the animate headgear glaring at any who dared even glance in its direction.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke from the Head Table. "While I respect your right to your own opinion, the Sorting Hat has never been wrong. It is not uncommon for a sorting to lean heavily towards a single House. You are correct in that a sorting has never placed each participant into the same House, but never has a re-sorting ceremony been done, and certainly not under these circumstances. Many times, however, the hat will place students not only where they will best succeed, but where they can help and be helped the most. I dare say, if you wish to continue with your argument over the integrity of the Hat, I will gladly invite you to my office where you can argue with it there until you are blue in the face. I guarantee that you will lose."

Harry and the entire Slytherin table smirked at the Gryffindors who were pouting rather like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The Headmaster winked at the newcomers to the Slytherin House and clapped his hands together, causing the emblems on their robes to change to their new House colors. A second clap of his hands had lunch appearing on the tables.

Harry stared at the table as everyone began reaching politely for their favorite foods, and felt uncertainty as his stomach churned. Something in his transformation had changed his eating habits, and he glanced up at Snape, who was watching him curiously. It had taken them three days to find a full list of foods he could still stomach, and none of them were sitting on the table. The Potions Master gestured with a nod for Harry to return his attention to his plate, where Harry saw pork and an assortment of uncooked fruits and vegetables lying innocently where before there had been none. He smiled gratefully at the dour man, who gave a nod of acknowledgement before returning to his own food. When Harry looked back to the table, Draco (who had visited once or twice and befriended Ron, while Harry remained somewhat wary), Ron, and Ginny were staring curiously. He leaned forward so he could eat and explain how his metabolisms had changed.


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out, no one had ever tried to put a sweater on a Hippogriff (or other winged animal, Harry had been very thorough when he checked), which had left Harry to design his own garment to cover his torso. After a long discussion with Snape, they had decided on something that would not only cover him, but keep him moderately warm, since his cloak and robes had had to be dismissed as well. When Harry had finished explaining to the kind, if stunned, designer at Gladrags what he was hoping for, he had wound up with a wardrobe of dragon hide and an elastic, breathable fabric that resembled gladiator armor. Draco and Ron had done little more than laugh at Harry's first attempt to put on the ensemble, with the multitude of buckles he had to deal with. After much fighting with the garment, Harry had managed to figure out how it was meant to go on. He stared at his reflection, flexing his muscles cautiously. The leather moved with him easily, sitting in a Y shape against his spine, the soft inner fabric made from Flobberworm silk sliding nicely into the contours of his abdomen.

"The school governors will have a hard time approving this look, Mister Potter," Snape said, stepping into the dorm. Harry smirked at the man in the mirror.

"Draco talked to his Dad for me and he's found some old by-law that states that a student with a magical inheritance can be accommodated so long as they meet the basic requirements of the school wardrobe. I've got pants and a shirt, and I fixed the hat to fit properly over my ears. As for the shoes, he found another by-law excusing my not wearing them, because I haven't technically got toes anymore. Besides, the dragon hide and Flobberworm silk are more comfortable against my fur than the cotton slacks were. I thought it looked nice, a little fitting, you know?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "The retired soldier who forgot to take off his armor?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at the Potions Master playfully. "Ha ha, Professor. I'm hardly retired, I've still got at least a quarter of Wizarding Britain looking to me to take care of the next bad guy who pops up, plus all of the remaining Death Eaters. And I didn't mean that, anyway, I just thought it looked right, like it…matches my new limbs, or something."

"Put a sword in your hand, lengthen the hair, and you're a Valkyrie," The Potions Master continued to tease.

Just to prove the man wrong, Harry transfigured a spare quill into a sword that resembled the sword of Gryffindor. He returned to his image in the mirror and dropped into a fighting stance, stretching his wings out to almost their full length. He hummed thoughtfully. "Alright, I get it, I could probably be a Centurion if there were more red and no arm coverings. But still, it's fitting, right?" He stood up straight and glanced over his shoulder to see Snape smirking appreciatively.

"Well you certainly don't look like a Vestal Virgin," The Potions Master told him.

Harry turned to the man, leaning on the transfigured sword. "Are you just gonna make cracks about the outfit? I admitted that it looked a little overzealous, but it's better than the alternative: naked except for shorts, like I wore in the Hospital Wing."

"It would certainly make a statement, Potter," Snape said. He turned to leave. "Your fans are growing restless on the grounds." He cast a spell over his shoulder and Harry fell gracelessly when his sword turned back into a quill. "Don't scuff my floors."

Harry groaned from where he'd landed on the cold cobblestone, pushing himself onto his hands and knees as the Potions Master left. He wiggled his left wing, certain he'd at least bruised it when he landed on it. The amazingly resilient limb flexed without any pain, and the young wizard glared at the empty doorway. He liked who the former spy had become, a comrade among enemies, but the man somehow still made him feel like a child sometimes. He brushed himself off and hurried after his professor, catching up just outside of the common room.

"Looking forward to the demonstration?" Harry asked eagerly. Snape only grunted in response. "Oh, come on, Professor, this is going to be brilliant! Except for when I used them in the Hospital Wing, I haven't really been able to test my wings. After all the spells and physical examinations you've done on them the last two weeks, I know you're just dying to see me fly!"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him as they walked down the corridor. "Ecstatic, Potter," The man said dryly.

Harry sighed at the man's absolute refusal to admit his interest. He knew Snape wanted to see him fly, so why did the man seem less than pleased that Harry was about to do just that? He scowled, giving up on the enigma of a Potions Master, and hurried down the corridor, anxious to get outside and really stretch his wings for the first time. With his feline legs, even at a jog he left the man behind him quickly, and burst through the front doors into the bright sunlight. It had taken longer than he'd have liked to get Madame Pomfrey to clear him to test his wings, and longer still to convince Madame Hooch to come supervise him. The Wizarding Savior spotted practically the entirety of Slytherin standing over by the lake with the flying instructor, and he raced over to Ron, Ginny, and Draco, his wings tucked tightly against his shoulders.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Ron asked excitedly. Harry had promised him that if flying didn't come with some unforeseen problems, he would be more lenient with loaning out his Firebolt, so the red head was more anxious to see Harry fly than even he was.

"Wow, Potter, that outfit is hot when you've got it on properly," Malfoy said, giving a low whistle.

Harry blushed and held out his arms as he looked himself over. "I thought it would be a little suffocating, but it's surprisingly cool. I'm starting to get why you said Flobberworm silk was worth the expense."

"I love these gauntlets, Harry!" Ginny squealed, studying the buckled black leather wrapped firmly around his forearms. "If you were wondering what to get me for Christmas, I would adore a pair of these."

The young wizard chuckled, brushing the girl off of his arm as Hooch began pushing through the crowd towards him. "Guys, leave off." He looked to the golden eyed witch who was almost upon them. "I'm ready, Madame Hooch."

The flying instructor narrowed her eyes and came to stand before him. Where she had once towered over him menacingly, she was now only an inch or so taller, and this seemed to bother her as she straightened her shoulders, standing to her full height. "I want nothing showy, Mister Potter. Clean flying, and you're to stay over the lake in case something goes wrong, understood?"

Harry nodded, anxious to finally get in the air. Since his first flight on a broom, this is what he had wanted, a chance to fly on his own, without relying on a piece of equipment that could fail (as evidenced by his years of quidditch). The closest he had ever come was his ride on Buckbeak, but he was certain none of that would compare to this. After several moments of what could only be described as a staring contest between the two flyers, Madame Hooch finally mounted her broom, and the students backed away as Harry expanded his wings fully.

A sharp nod from the instructor told Harry she was ready for him to take flight, and the young wizard closed his eyes as he crouched low, shuffling his claws in the dirt for a solid take off. He took a deep breath and looked up at the clear sky, then felt his muscles uncoil as he pushed himself high into the waiting atmosphere, his wings pushing him even higher as they beat roughly downward. When he'd gone high enough, he threw his wings out, catching the air and gliding on a current. He sighed, feeling the wind whip through his hair and the feathers on his wings, then opened his eyes. Far below him, his new House crowded on the edge of the lake, cheering wildly (or as wild as Slytherin was capable of). To his right, Hooch was flying on her broom, watching him carefully. He sighed, breathing deeply in the chilled air, and then folded his wings, diving towards the lake. At the last second, he pulled out of the dive, spinning upward with a solid thrust of his wings, and swung around towards the beach of the lake.

Harry flew over the heads of the few students who had ventured into the cool water, his cat eyes picking out familiar faces easily in the small crowd. Farther off, dark eyes loomed from the steps of the castle, nearly causing him to stumble mid-flight. An unidentifiable emotion, raw and angry, danced like flames in the black depths that seemed so clear, despite their distance, and Harry moved backwards, away from the shore, pausing in the air, his wings beating smoothly to keep him aloft. He stared back at the lone silhouette on the steps curiously, attempting to decipher what was going through the mysterious mind.

"Potter, land!"

Harry was startled from his thoughts by Hooch's voice, and dropped a few feet before his wings carried him aloft once more. He shot a spiteful glare at the back of the short-haired witch's head, and then followed the woman back to the beach, landing gracefully on the rocky terrain. He was immediately surrounded by his friends, new and old, and when they parted long enough for him to glimpse the front steps, Snape had gone. Harry frowned, still wondering what he had seen. The emotion he'd seen was one he felt he should know easily, but he couldn't place it.


	6. Chapter 6

The savior of Wizarding Britain sat atop a parapet on the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling over the sheer drop below him as he stared wistfully at the clear sky and twinkling stars. He'd been a Slytherin for a few weeks now, and nothing seemed right. His friends, the other 'formers', seemed to be coping better than he was, making new friends amongst the Snakes, and adjusting easily to the change in class schedules and House rules. Snape (despite his better judgment, as he had put it) had explained to them their first night in Slytherin that the rules were vastly different for snakes. First through Third years were required to be in bed at a certain time, Fourth and Fifth Years could be up as late as they liked so long as they remained in the common room, and Sixth and Seventh Years were allowed out after curfew so long as they weren't caught and kept their grades up to par. As well, Fifth Years and above were required to help the younger years with their homework, and Seventh Years had tutoring on the weekends open to them and guided by the Potions Master himself. Strangely, with loose rules such as this (and more) the Slytherins were amazingly well-behaved within their own House, and welcoming to the newcomers as if they had never been anything but friends. The others had settled easily into the new routines, and even Ron's grades had improved with Snape and Malfoy tutoring him in his classes.

Harry, however, was struggling with his new environment. It was a strange feeling, being given his own room (Seventh Years were paired off, but with an odd number the Snakes had elected to give him a room to himself, thanks to his new needs), and even stranger being accepted without being worshipped. He often found himself curled into a corner, learning newer and stranger magics when he wasn't at meals, classes, or helping the younger years in classes he had once struggled in himself. Everything was so different. The school had been shamed into silence with the loss of so many students to Slytherin, but Harry knew it wouldn't last, and soon he would be a target for their ridicule, and probable violence.

The powerful young wizard sighed deeply and pushed himself off of the rampart, catching the cold air in his wings as he soared high above the sleeping castle. The air had a small bite to it the higher he went, as if warning of the winter only a few weeks away, but as the wind breezed through his feathers and the fur on his legs, Harry barely noticed. Hooch, after lecturing him about 'flashy' flying, had cleared him to use his wings as often as he liked, knowing he would with or without her permission. After his first flight a week ago, Harry had been anxious to return to the air, but Snape, despite Hooch's permissions, had forbidden him to fly 'pending further tests'.

Recalling how Snape had been acting since Harry had first really flown made the powerful wizard pause in his peaceful flight. The man had been nothing less than unbearable, and deep in those black eyes Harry would occasionally glimpse that same unknown emotion from before. Tired of trying to figure out what went through the impossible Potions Master's mind, Harry took off at high speeds as high as he felt comfortable going, and then began to circle the dark castle and grounds nearly a thousand feet below him. The atmosphere had been a major concern of Pomfrey before she'd allow him to fly, but after several tests they'd discovered that, along with the transformations, his magic had adapted the rest of his body to sustain them. A part of sustaining the wings, it seemed, was to slow his metabolism and strengthen his lungs, as well as triple the density of his bones.

Angry at himself for thinking of his new freakishness, Harry slowed, realizing that nothing was going to take his mind off of how much everything had changed. As he turned towards the Astronomy Tower, he spotted a lone figure standing there. It was Snape.

At first, Harry believed he was about to be lectured again, but as he glided further down, he realized the man was standing with his back to where Harry was, and was staring wistfully at the dark sky above. Harry paused again in his descent and studied the man carefully. Could that look have been jealousy? In his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never considered any of his professors to be flyers, but he supposed that was the same for everyone. The students never saw the teachers fly except when there was a Quidditch match, and only as referee…and it seemed like any time Hooch wasn't the ref, Snape took her place. The young savior wondered what strange rule kept the students from glimpsing the humanity of their professors as he resumed his flight back to the Astronomy Tower. Seeing the sad set to the silhouetted shoulders, Harry made a split second decision and landed directly behind the dark man.

Before Snape could round on him, Harry wrapped his tail around the slim, firm waist and curled his arms around the slightly taller man's chest. He pulled the deceptively strong body back against his own, and was struck with how intimate the position was.

"Potter," Snape growled warningly.

Harry rolled his eyes and stretched to speak nearer to the man's ear. "Hold on," He said in a soft voice before taking to the air with a strong, solid flap of his wings. Long fingers curled around his wrists and he chuckled as he slowed to a smooth glide. "Don't worry, Professor, I won't drop you." He tightened his hold to reinforce the promise, and slowly the body against his began to relax. After a few minutes of simply soaring above the castle, Harry dipped towards the lake, picking up a little more speed as he went. When he reached the water he tilted slightly to the left to run the tip of his wing through the lapping waves. He was surprised when potion-stained fingers reached out to run through the water as well. After a few minutes, he tilted the other way, soaking the tip of his right wing, and then pulled up abruptly, twirling through the warm night air, the water on his wings misting around them.

They flew around a while longer before Harry felt his arms growing tired and returned to the Astronomy Tower. When they landed, he set Snape down first before perching on the edge of the same parapet he'd taken off from. He waited nervously for the Potions Master to speak, or look at him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the elder wizard turned, his eyes slightly moist from the rushing wind, and a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you, Potter…" Snape said gruffly.

Harry smiled shyly. "You looked like you needed it." Snape gave a curt nod and started to leave. "Wait!" The man stopped a few feet from the door. "Could…could we talk for a minute? If you have rounds, or want to get to your bed, I understand, but…I haven't really got anyone I can talk to."

"It is late, Potter, we should both be tucked away for the night," Snape replied calmly. Harry felt disappointment, and looked away as he lowered himself to sit on the rampart's edge, waiting for the sound of the Tower door. "But I suppose that, as it is the weekend, I could spare a few moments."

Harry looked up sharply at that and saw Snape come to sit on the parapet beside his. "Thank you, sir." He turned to face the man, the bright moonlight lighting up the sharp features. After a second's hesitation, he asked the question that had been bothering him. "Why don't you fly, sir? You obviously love it…"

Snape seemed to consider his words. "Teachers are discouraged from allowing students to see much of their personal life, and to be honest, there isn't much time, Potter. During the term, I am required to care for my House, to brew potions as needed for the Hospital Wing and other professors, and there are of course the usual expectations that every teacher must adhere to, such as grading and rounds. After my first few years teaching, I began leaving my broom at my home, as it was an unnecessary distraction."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't seem fair, sir. I can understand being expected to care for your House, but from what I've seen, that probably doesn't require a lot of attention after the first week or so. It's the potions, isn't it? That's what keeps you from flying?"

The man gave a sharp nod. "It is, though I do not resent the responsibility, Potter. It is an honor to be entrusted with such an odious task."

"Sounds like a bunch of Albus' bullshit, to me," Harry answered angrily. He was surprised when all he received was a furrowed brow, rather than a detention. "I can understand being happy to be so trusted, but, sir…being a teacher shouldn't mean you ignore who you are as a person 9 months out of the year. I mean, you like to fly, and I've seen the articles you post in the Potions Journals, you should be allowed time to yourself to get on your broom and experiment in your lab. I get why, when you were younger, the Headmaster might have put more responsibility on your shoulders to help you settle into your new role, but…Isn't there anyone else who can do it? Or at least help?"

"Potter…" The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Potter, I have been through the options, and believe me when I tell you that there are none. No other professor can help, they are all busy or less than adequate, hence the reason that I am the Potions Master."

"What about students," Harry suggested. Snape looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "I'm serious, sir. The Seventh Years, at least, can brew most of the potions required in the Hospital Wing, since we learned them back in third and fourth year. If you were to approach a couple of your more trusted students with the task, I know for a fact that there are a few who would love the opportunity. You may have to give them an incentive of some sort, but it's better than doing it all yourself."

Snape was silent for a moment. "I will take that under advisement, Mister Potter." Harry nodded and they sat there listening to the sounds of the night for several minutes, the younger wizard unsure how to broach the next topic of discussion. "You are not adjusting as well as your fellow re-sorted," Snape said smoothly.

Harry gave a dry, breathy chuckle. "Sometimes I swear that you can read minds even without Legilimency, Professor. You're right, I'm not. There's just…I can't explain it -so much has changed all at once. New friends, new house, new enemies…new limbs; I don't mean to sound self-serving or whatever, but I'm starting to think that the Fates are having fun at my expense."

"While I would never condone inflating your ego, Potter," Snape said lightly, no malice to his words. "It would seem that things do tend to happen to you. Perhaps you are cursed."

Harry smiled at the Potions Master. "That's terribly helpful, sir."

Laughter danced in his professor's eyes. "It would seem I live to help you, Potter. In which case, I am forced to ask if there is anything I can do to ease your transition into my House. You are a Slytherin now, Mister Potter, and as such I will do anything in my power to be sure you do not struggle as you did previously. As I told you and your merry band of lions, any of my snakes may come to me at any time and I will help where I can."

"I know, Professor Snape, and I appreciate that," Harry started slowly, scratching at the fur on his leg. "I just don't know that anyone can really help, at least no more than you already have…I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Despite what I'd heard about Hermione's very vocal anger at my remaining at the school, she's said and done nothing since the re-sorting; the school has been eerily quiet, as though afraid to speak against me; the Slytherins have been exceptional in drawing everyone into the House of Snakes; and I still haven't really gotten used to my new body. It's like we're teetering on the edge of a huge storm that no one can see or feel coming."

"I have felt much the same way since your release from the Hospital Wing, Mister Potter," Snape admitted softly. "But there is not much that can be done. Except to hope that when the dam does break, you'll be strong enough and have enough people behind you. You must remember that: you are not alone. Your professors and fellow Slytherins are waiting to support you, and you cannot be afraid to lean on us."

"That's the hard part," Harry murmured. "I've always had trouble relying on others. And it's doubly hard to rely on a group of people whom were once my schoolyard enemies. Hell, some of them were my enemies on the battlefield." He pointed out, recalling how he fought the parents of some of his new Housemates in the Graveyard three years ago.

Snape seemed bothered by this statement. "That is not true, Potter. I have spent my career keeping my students away from war, encouraging them to form their own opinions rather than follow in their parent's footsteps. It is true that some of your Housemates once sympathized with the Dark Lord, but following your defeat of him, I was able to reach them in ways I was unable to before. Though none of them will openly admit to their change in opinion, they have all since silently supported your side of the war."

"Our side," Harry corrected automatically. "I hardly fought the entire war on my own. I realized too late just how much you tried to protect me, punishing me more severely than others when I was out of bounds, or failed to do what was necessary to further my education. And then the two years you spent spying, the fact that you quite literally restrained Sirius before he could come to the Ministry…I feel that you did far more for the war than I ever did, because all I really did was manage not to die."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Potter, but I have never been one for medals and heroism," Snape acknowledged.

Harry chuckled, remembering how uncomfortable the man had looked at the ball the Ministry threw over the Summer in celebration of Harry's defeat of Voldemort a few months earlier. "I guess I thought everything would be normal now," Harry sighed, putting his head in his hands. "With no megalomaniac out for my blood, I foolishly let myself believe that the only thing I'd have to worry about this year was grades and what I was going to do after I graduate."

"Life isn't fair, Potter, but wallowing in self-pity will not make it any easier to deal with. I am sorry that Fate has taken a particular liking to making your life more difficult than most, but you must endure," Snape told him firmly.

"Why?" Harry whispered forlornly.

He heard Snape shift onto his feet. "What else can you do?"

Harry looked up at the Potions Master to see long fingers extended towards him, asking for his hand. He smiled. "You have a point," He agreed, giving the man his hand and letting the older wizard help him down from the parapet. "Doesn't mean I like it, though."

The two wizards moved to leave the Tower. "No one said you had to." Snape pointed out calmly, opening the door to let Harry through first. They moved down the stairs and through the corridors in comfortable silence. After several minutes, Snape spoke again as they moved closer to the dungeons. "Potions is your final class tomorrow, correct?"

Harry looked up the few inches to study the man's visage. "It is, sir," He said carefully, curious about the point of the question.

"You will remain behind afterwards, to serve your detention." Snape said smoothly as they began to descend the steps to the Ground floor.

The winged 17 year old opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Technically, he _had_ been caught. "Of course, Pro-" He was suddenly pushed off his feet into the alcove beside the dungeon entrance, a hand over his mouth and the other curled tightly around his waist. He started to ask the man what was wrong, but the hand on his hip squeezed bruisingly in warning.

"I don't know where he is, Hermione…He has his own room, he should have been there," A familiar voice whispered.

"I had you join Slytherin so you could give me access to that freak, not waste my time!" Another voice, apparently Granger, hissed angrily. Bright green darted around to meet black. He knew Snape could see the sadness in his eyes and was met with a look of sympathy. "Next time, make sure he's in his room, understood?"

"Yeah, okay," The unknown traitor whispered. "It's sort of perfect, though. Potter: betrayed by his own freakishness." The mystery person chuckled quietly.

Hermione chuckled as well, a cruel sound Harry had never heard from the once lonely girl. "It _is_ perfect. Telling anyone who'd listen just how _special_ he is because the hat let him _choose_ which House he was going to be in. It will be the perfect irony when exactly that proves to be the downfall of that attention-seeking little brat."

The voices faded as the two moved away from the alcove, and Snape slowly lowered the hand that had been covering Harry's mouth. They stood simply staring at one another for a few seconds, Harry's breathing short and ragged as he tried to keep from breaking down. Then the Potions Master spoke.

"Are you alright, Potter?"

The question seemed to break the dam, and Harry shook his head as tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. He felt his legs start to give under him, as if there were a large weight on his shoulders, and fell to his knees, his hands braced against the cold stone floor. "I…I was supposed to be safe. Everything is wrong. I was finally getting away from my relatives, away from Vernon, I was finally going to be safe." The last words came out in a choked sob.

A surprisingly cool hand settled on the back of his neck, soothing the hair at his nape. "I'm sorry." Was all the man said.

They stayed like that for several long moments, the Potions Master kneeling beside him as Harry cried for all of the injustice in his life. When Harry woke in the morning, he would vaguely recall being carried to his bed in deceptively strong arms.


	7. Chapter 7

A week later saw Halloween come to Hogwarts with an abrupt change in weather. Despite the late summer warmth they'd enjoyed only a week previous, there now sat a thin film of snow on the ground, with more falling every second. Harry Potter woke to a deep sense that something was going to go wrong. In Potions, he recalled Snape's words about relying on others, and decided to approach the man about the foreboding feeling.

The elite Seventh Year Potions class filed out, most of them talking amiably amongst themselves. The few in the class who resented Harry glared at him on their way out, but no one dared speak to him as he waited for the Potions Master. When the last of his peers had gone and closed the door, the seventeen year old carefully approached the front desk where Snape was grading their potions.

"Sir," He said softly, still unsure of what exactly he was doing. He waited until Snape put down the phial in his hand and looked at him before continuing. "I-I'm not sure it's anything important, but…Ever since I got up this morning, I've been feeling as if something bad was going to happen, something really terrible."

The Potions Master nodded, his black eyes flashing in the torchlight. "I have had a similar feeling, Potter. Unfortunately, I am unsure whether it is related to the change in weather, or because something is really coming. The only advice I can give you is to remain on guard, and to trust your instincts. They have served you well in the past, and will continue to do so."

Harry frowned, having hoped that perhaps Snape would allay his fears, or give them a name, but understood that not even the Potions Master could know everything. "Thank you, sir, for being honest with me. I'll see you at dinner." He turned to leave, but Snape stopped him.

"Potter," Harry turned back slightly to look at the man over his shoulder. "I'm glad that you came to me, instead of dismissing the feeling. If your instincts tell you that something is wrong, I hope you will speak to me, or give me some sign, and not chase after this suspicion alone." The former Gryffindor nodded and left the classroom, grateful that Snape hadn't dismissed him outright.

 _-Break-_

The rest of the day progressed without incident, and as the Halloween Feast neared its end, Harry felt more and more uneasy. None of the other students seemed to understand why he was so on edge, but he had shared looks with several of his professors and was dully comforted that they seemed to sense the growing tension as well. It was as the majority of the students got up to return to their dorms after the feast that Harry heard it, a light whispering that he would have otherwise mistaken for a draft on any other day.

Harry looked up to the Head Table, catching Snape's eye sharply, before standing and running for the doors of the Great Hall. He leapt over the large group of students just as the doors burst open to reveal a mass of writhing snakes, at least a thousand strong. He realized with a start that each and every one of them were poisonous, and caught himself with his wings before he landed in the midst of the wriggling river. Screams of terror echoed in the Hall as the snakes moved forward, snapping at the students' ankles with fangs that were dripping with venom.

Several students fell as the group that had been moving towards the door tried to back away from the wriggling mass, and Harry hovered above them, watching in horror. Suddenly, the snakes seemed to hit an invisible barrier, allowing the students who had fallen to crawl backwards, out of reach. Harry looked over to see Snape beyond the mass of students, his wand trained on the doors. The Potions Master caught his eye and nodded in acknowledgement, even as the other professors hurried over to help.

Seeing that his fellow students were safe, Harry cast a wandless _'sonorus'_ on himself, and stared at the mass of snakes that extended back into the Entrance Hall, more coming even now to pile against the barrier Snape had erected. After a second's thought, he said the one thing that would get the hungry snakes' attentions.

" _Food, food for all,_ " He hissed loudly. Most of the snakes turned to face him. He repeated himself, and sighed with relief when he saw he'd gotten all of their attention. " _Come,_ " He cooed in parseltongue. He turned in the air and glided out of the Great Hall, blasting open the Entrance Hall doors. He began to lead the snakes to the Forbidden Forest before he recalled the many species that lived there, such as the Unicorns and Centaurs. Realizing there was nowhere for the snakes to go, he cast a spell, another barrier. Wave after wave of snakes rolled into the barrier until they were all writhing against it.

The former Gryffindor looked sadly at the innocent creatures, but glanced at the still open doors of Hogwarts to see more than half of the school looking on in fear. Turning away so he wouldn't have to watch the carnage, he set his barrier ablaze and listened to the sickening screams of betrayal as the poisonous creatures began to burn. He flew back towards the school, gliding low as he tried not to think of the lives he'd just taken. He made it halfway before a horrified scream tore through the air.

When he reached the amassed students on the front lawn, bathed in the light from the Entrance Hall, he saw what had caused the scream. A young Third Year lay deathly still on the stone steps leading up to the castle. Madame Pomfrey pushed her way through the students and knelt by the young girl. After casting several spells, she looked up at the Headmaster and shook her head sadly, her tears lit in the dancing light from the Entrance Hall. A gasp moved like a wave across the students as they realized the girl was dead, and several looked up at him.

"Potter killed her!" A voice cried out in the crowd. "He led them out, only he could have led them in!"

Harry drew back in shock, his wings beating against the frigid night air as the crowd began shouting accusations at him. He caught a flash of dark eyes, lost in the sea of monstrous faces, and took off into the black sky to escape the accusations. As he flew further from the mob of distraught students, spells began firing from the mass, and he was forced to dodge them until he had disappeared in the moonless sky. Despair racked his body as he sought a safe haven away from the baseless accusations of his peers.

 _-Break-_

"I thought I might find you here," Snape said softly, closing the door to the Astronomy Tower.

Harry shivered as a sharp gust of wind blew across the top of the tower, blinding him with falling snow for a moment. "I'd like to be alone," He murmured, wrapping his wings around his shoulders like a blanket. He was perched on a plinth in the center of the tower that he imagined had once held one of Hogwarts' many winged boar statues, his knees hugged tight to his chest.

The man seemed to ignore his reply, and continued across the tower to come and stand beside him. "It's not your fault, Potter."

This made Harry unfathomably angry, and he jumped to his feet on the plinth, glaring at the man. "Yes it is!" He shouted, his voice carrying over the still night air. "If I hadn't tried to lead the snakes away from the castle then you or someone else would have noticed that she'd been bit!"

Snape glared back. "And if I had been faster to cast a barrier she would never have been bitten in the first place!" His voice was thunderous in the silence. "You made a decision, Potter, that doesn't make you any more complicit than I am! The only one at fault here is whoever _did_ bring the snakes into the castle."

Harry stood defiantly for a few seconds, glaring at the man, before finally accepting that he wouldn't win the argument. He slumped and flopped back down onto the stone block. "It doesn't matter what you say, Snape. I had to kill the snakes in the end anyway, I made the wrong choice, and because of that a girl is dead."

Snape stepped in front of him. "Stop it, Potter," The man admonished firmly. Harry stared up at him through his fringe, a part of him hoping the man would allay his guilt. "You made a decision, and it was the wrong one, but it didn't cause that girl to die. People make decisions every day, life-altering decisions, and sometimes they are wrong, but that's called being human." Harry flinched as the man pushed up his left sleeve and thrust his wrist into view, exposing the tattoo that would forever stand as a reminder of his own mistakes. "I made a wrong choice once, and I paid the price with lives. I developed potions on orders, and they were used to harm innocents! Does that make me complicit in every death the Dark Lord caused?!"

Harry looked away from the evil mark, drawing his knees up to his chest again. "That's not the same thing." He muttered.

"Isn't it?!" Snape demanded furiously, thrusting his wrist back into Harry's line of sight. "I never actively hurt anyone, but I developed potions that the Death Eaters used against people. You didn't actively harm that girl, but you made a decision that delayed her receiving care that might have saved her. Am I to blame for any death my potions may have caused? Are you really to blame for hers?!"

Harry sighed and didn't respond. A long, heavy silence stood between them, Snape refusing to lower his arm, forcing Harry to look. Finally, the Wizarding savior looked up at the former Death Eater, tears coursing over his cheeks. He knew the man was right.

"It's just not fair," He whispered, giving a choked sob. "There's been so much pain, so much death already. When will the war finally end?"

The Potions Master re-buttoned his sleeve over his wrist and stepped forward so that they were eye-to-eye in the flickering torchlight. "I don't know, Potter." He admitted softly, wrapping his arms around the younger wizard's shoulders. "But if we blame ourselves for every death, or hide away from our responsibilities, then we will never find out. We can't let the casualties of war be the thing that stops us from continuing the fight."

"She was thirteen," Harry sobbed, holding onto the man with a deathly tight grip. "She should never have been a casualty."

"I know," Snape soothed him. "But the war has come to Hogwarts, and whether the students want you to or not, you have been called to the fight again." He pulled away and put his hands on either side of Harry's face, forcing him to look into the fathomless black eyes. "Do you understand, Potter? The war has come home and you have to fight; you have to fight, and you have to win, for all our sakes. Without you, Hogwarts is lost."

Harry sobbed again, staring blearily at his new Head of House. "Why me?" He whispered softly.

Snape sighed and pulled him back into the relative comfort of his arms, Harry's wings wrapping protectively around them both. "Because no one else can, Harry." Neither could have said how long they stayed like that, but when they finally parted, Harry was ready once more to be the hero Hogwarts needed.


	8. Chapter 8

War had come to Hogwarts, indeed, but it was not the easy war of wands that Harry had grown accustomed to. Instead, he didn't know all of his enemies, and he had to fight with his words, rallying as many students as he could away from Hermione's venomous tyranny. The multitude of students who'd turned against him had at some point unofficially named the Muggle-born witch their leader, and like the Slytherins when they had followed Malfoy, many would do what she asked only because she had asked it of them. Several attempts were made on Harry's life, already, and he was forced to cast spells on all his food, and ward his door within Slytherin.

Fortunately, though, despite these attempts, there were no more incidents like what had happened on Halloween. Whomever was pulling Granger's strings (and Harry was certain that someone had to be) had apparently realized that killing off the student body was not the way to get to the young savior, as several students had changed sides when Harry had tried to save everyone by leading the snakes away. As it stood now, approximately half the school stood behind him, and half behind his former best friend. Still, hidden amongst those he thought of as allies, Harry knew there was at least one traitor. By Christmas Break, the school had officially split, the teacher's constantly on edge lest a fight break out even amongst their own Houses.

Harry chewed his lip as he waivered in front of the Potions Master's office door, his wings shuddering nervously against his shoulders. He'd been meaning to talk with the man for several days, but had been afraid to approach him, unsure anything could be done about his predicament. Just as he'd decided he wouldn't bother his Head of House, the door opened, and the very man appeared in the doorway.

"Potter," Snape said, surprised. "What are you doing standing outside my office?"

Harry blushed. "Er, I-I was just…Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something, but it's really not that important, sir. It can wait, if you're busy."

"Actually," Snape smirked. "I was about to go looking for you. I have just had a discussion with the Headmaster about your decision to stay at Hogwarts over the Holidays."

Harry gaped slightly, now certain the man inhabited some corner of his mind, as this had been his precise reason for standing in the corridor. The Potions Master continued to smirk, and stepped aside, gesturing Harry in.

"No need to look so dumbfounded, Mister Potter," He said casually. "I am your Head of House, and as such it is my job to know those things which trouble you most." The former Gryffindor closed his mouth with a snap and stepped into the dimly lit office. Snape closed the door behind him, and moved towards his desk. "As I'm sure you're aware," The older wizard began formally, leaning against the front of the desk. "Were you to remain at Hogwarts over the Holidays, your life could be in jeopardy, as there are far less witnesses protecting you, especially with the majority of Slytherin leaving for the holiday. As such, the Headmaster has agreed with my decision to send you to Grimmauld."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, but Sirius said-"

"I am well aware, Potter," Snape interrupted angrily. "Of your idiot godfather's decision to leave you alone in these uncertain times so that he might go gallivanting across Europe with Merlin knows whom." Harry wanted to argue, but he knew that Sirius had volunteered for the case, and so couldn't find it in himself to defend the Auror. "I am also aware that Remus Lupin is not a good choice of guardian, as the full moon falls on Christmas Eve. At first, Professor Dumbledore felt no compunctions about sending you to Grimmauld alone-"

"Except that Hermione knows how to get in," Harry grumbled, astonished at the Headmaster's careless attitude.

Snape gave a short nod. "Precisely my argument, Potter, and why I told the Headmaster that I could not allow you to go alone. He, however, insists that you cannot stay in the Slytherin dorms safely, so we were forced to find a compromise. You have a choice, Potter: You may remain at Hogwarts in the Headmaster's quarters, or you may go to Grimmauld with me."

Harry frowned, his tail twitching with agitation. "Sir, I can't do that to you. It's Holiday, you shouldn't be forced to look after me. That's why I couldn't go to the Weasley's for Christmas, I didn't want to put them at risk should the war follow me there."

"Which is very selfless of you, Potter," Snape admitted. "Fortunately, you need not concern yourself with my safety, as I am well-trained in the art of defending myself." He smirked mischievously, and Harry smiled hopefully in response, his wings flexing against his shoulders.

"Fair enough, sir…If you really don't mind, and don't think I'm putting you at risk, then I would prefer to stay at Grimmauld with you." Harry told the Potions Master uncertainly. "But I really do wish to avoid inconveniencing you as much as possible, so if you'd prefer I stay with the Headmaster, then I will."

The former Death Eater gave an exaggerated shudder. "Potter, I would not wish the Headmaster's flamboyant enjoyment of the Holiday on anyone, not even you."

Harry's smile turned into a full-blown grin at the small jest. "Thank you, Professor, I appreciate the offer. Will I be meeting you at King's Cross, like the rest of the students?"

"No," Snape answered firmly. "It's best that certain students not know your plans for the holiday, at least until we have had time to properly ward the house, so you and I will be apparating after the students have gone tomorrow." The man paused. "I hope you can understand why this was all arranged without your knowledge, Potter."

The former Gryffindor shrugged. "I do, sir. Even if I am a legal adult, I'm still a student at the school, so it's still your responsibility to keep me safe. If I had been given input into the discussion, it would have only complicated the decision, since there's nothing useful that I could have added. I appreciate that you gave me a choice, though, rather than making the decision for me outright."

"Of course, Potter. I am not your slave driver, I am your Head of House, and as such my job is only to _guide_ you, not to control you," Snape demurred. He waved Harry off as a means of dismissal, and the younger wizard thanked him again before taking his leave. On his way back to Slytherin, he had to be careful not to knock his wings against the walls as they flexed repeatedly in response to his joy.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning saw a clear blue sky, the first since Halloween, over the blindingly white grounds. By noon, the students were packing into the carriages to be taken home for Christmas, and Harry stood atop the Astronomy Tower. He and Draco had wanted to put a little fear into the enemy, and had worked out a beautiful display of his new, mostly-controlled power, as a parting gift to his would-be adversaries.

When he caught the flash of Draco's wand letting off sparks, he dived from the Tower, only catching the wind in his wings mere feet from the ground. He soared close to the ground and gathered snow into the shallow basket he and Draco had found. When it was full, he soared over the heads of the students, all of whom were now watching him closely, some with glee and others with fear. When he thought he'd gone high enough, he threw the snow in the basket into the air over the heads of the largest concentration of students. He smirked, then cast the spell that would let him breathe a short burst of fire. As the snow began to fall, he puffed his single fiery breath over it, melting the ice crystals and soaking the crowd below.

"Potter!" A familiar voice bellowed.

Harry chuckled and dove towards the students, who had parted to make a wide berth around the soaked Potions Master. He came to a stop above the crowd, beating his wings to stay in place.

"Whoops, sorry, Professor, I didn't see you there," He said, chuckling. He reached down and high-fived Draco as the boy got into a carriage. Several of the students who'd been caught in the downpour were having trouble containing their laughter, even some who stood firmly behind Hermione's side of the silent war. The witch in question looked furious, having caught the brunt of his attack.

"Potter, you're going to give us all colds!" She shrieked, squeezing water from her sleeves.

Harry only laughed harder. "Nonsense, 'Mione, it was only a joke. Here, let me help." He cast a wide drying charm over the students he'd caught in his sudden rainstorm. It had the added benefit of making his ex-best friend's hair puff out hilariously. "There," He said, trying to hold in his laughter. "You're all dry now." After a moment, he could no longer hold in his raucous laughter at seeing Granger's hair frizz out similar to a poodle's, and he chortled cacophonously.

The girl huffed indignantly. "Potter! You spoil everything!" She screamed, trying to press her hair down. The students best thought of as her lieutenants hurried her into one of the waiting carriages.

Harry grinned. "It's just a joke, Granger!" He called. "Think of it as my fabulous farewell." Several students laughed with him, not all of them from his side, and he took off back to the Astronomy Tower. From there, he watched the students resume their departure from Hogwarts. After several minutes, the Potions Master joined him.

"It might have been nice to have some warning, Potter," Snape growled. He shooed Harry sideways and took up a seat on the same parapet. "I might have been able to enjoy the joke from the sidelines."

Harry chuckled even as his tail wrapped securely around the Potions Master's waist. It always worried him when the man sat so close to the edge, and he'd taken to doing this whenever the man did so. "I'm sorry, Professor, I really didn't mean to catch you in my little prank. If it helps at all, it was Draco's job to make sure you and the other professors were out of the line of fire."

Snape sniffed indignantly. "It does not help, Mister Potter. Next time, you should be more aware of who may get caught in your pranks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay," He agreed. "But, it was worth it to see Granger looking like a drowned rat, even if you were caught in the middle."

The Potions Master tried and failed to hide a smirk. Harry nudged the man's shoulder lightly with his own, causing the smirk to come out full force. "It was rather funny," The man admitted finally. They sat in silence for several minutes as the carriages below began pulling out onto the path to Hogsmeade. "Have you finished packing for Grimmauld?" Snape asked finally. "I don't want you running your Elf ragged just because you forgot this, that, and t'other."

Harry looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. "T'other, seriously?" The Potions Master didn't respond, only sniffed indignantly, making Harry chuckle. "Yeah, I'm all packed up. Dobby took my things to Grimmauld already, so he could get settled. When are we leaving?"

"I have some last minute things to see to before we depart, so I am afraid you will have free reign of the castle for a few hours. However, I want you to meet me in the Entrance Hall at 3 'o' clock sharp, so that we may leave," Snape told him clearly. They sat for several more minutes, simply enjoying one another's company, before the older wizard finally left to tend to his last minute duties.

 _-Break-_

Harry was walking back to the Slytherin dorms to make sure he really had packed all of his things when he was forced to dodge a spell shot from the dark recesses of an alcove behind him. The bolt of fire left a black scorch mark on the wall in front of him, and he paled, rolling further away as another spell came racing towards him. He regained his footing at the same time as he drew his wand, casting a series of minor hexes at the alcove the spells had come from. A small figure dove from the alcove, firing yet more spells at him, and he shouted, his wings reflexively carrying him out of the line of fire. He shot towards the standing figure and landed on the boy's chest, his claws retracting so as not to pierce the robes.

"Dennis?" He asked in surprise. "What are you doing?!"

The younger boy growled and shot a spell at him that Harry barely dodged, allowing the boy to stand up. The angry fifth year glared at Harry, his wand poised to attack further. "You tried to hurt Hermione!" Dennis shouted. He shot several more high-level curses, which Harry dodged or shielded against easily.

"You're the traitor?!" This news came as such a shock, that Harry barely dodged the next attack. The spell struck the wall where he had been standing, and created such a concussive blast that it threw Harry from his paws, throwing him backwards to bounce head first off the opposite wall of the corridor. He crumpled to a heap, one wing half-shielding his prone form.

Harry struggled to open his eyes, his ears ringing from the blast. He peeled his eyes open groggily in time for the world around him to be engulfed in red. His first thought was that Dennis had cast another of his fire spells, but when he didn't feel the lick of flames against his skin he realized the light must have been a stunner. Suddenly, hands were on him, rolling him over and brushing aside his limp, black wing. He stared up into the guarded face of his savior, his Head of House.

"Harry?!"

The deep voice was small and faraway beyond the continued ringing in Harry's ears. He tried to groan, but it ended in a painful, wracking cough. The groan came more easily now as the left side of his ribcage screamed in pain. He looked back to Snape as his vision began to dull, darkness creeping in at the edges.

A limp hand rose slowly to touch the sharp features above him, but before Harry's fingers could make contact with the sallow skin, unconsciousness closed its jaws around him, drawing him down into the dark. His last memory was of being lifted by the wiry strength of the Potions Master, cradled against a rapid heartbeat.


	10. Chapter 10

The first thing Harry became aware of was the bright light filtering through his eyelids. He groaned and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the blinding sunlight. When his vision cleared, he saw Madame Pomfrey standing over him, wand in hand, casting her usual diagnostic spells. He smiled at her, and was glad to receive a smile in return.

"You gave us quite the scare, Mister Potter," The Hospital Matron told him gently. "The way you attract trouble, I should put your name on this bed."

Harry chuckled, but stopped when the action caused his ribs to flare. He grimaced against the pain, and when he opened his eyes again, Snape had joined the motherly nurse at the end of his bed. He smiled abashedly, but only got a small scowl in response. Something had happened after he fell unconscious.

Madame Pomfrey drew Harry's attention away by coming around to the side of the bed and offering him a potion. "It will help with the pain and reset your cracked ribs." She said by way of an explanation.

Harry nodded and took the phial gratefully, letting the older witch help him to sit up. He knocked back the vile-tasting concoction, then started to gag as he felt it burn its way down his throat and into his stomach. His tail twitched in disgust, and his wings contracted around his shoulders, shuddering in feathery distaste. Finally, Snape smirked.

"Oh, that was foul," Harry croaked.

"Better than Skelegro, however," Snape pointed out.

Harry considered this, then nodded. "True. What happened?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow in careful consideration, and then turned to the Hospital Matron. She scowled back, but moved away from the bed with a scoff. Snape smirked after her, and when she had gone he sat carefully at the foot of the bed.

"You know your attacker," He began baldly.

Harry shrugged. "Sort of. He's…I know he's Colin Creevey's little brother. I've spoken to him a few times, to help with schoolwork or passing in the corridors. I take it he was the traitor we overheard?"

"He was not," Snape answered. Harry frowned. "He is spelled so that he cannot reveal the other traitor, or traitors, amongst your friends. It _was_ him who set a few of those traps you discovered in your room. Apparently, his failure to harm you in some way had lost him Granger's good graces. His attack today was an attempt to regain them, and partially out of spite for you using a fire spell he cannot master."

"So I'm still a prisoner in my new House?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"No," Snape said, touching Harry's paw. Harry swallowed the giggle that rose as he felt those impossibly long fingers run through the soft fur that covered his new foot. This was no laughing matter. "You are never a prisoner, Potter. And, should you begin to feel that you are, you can always come to me. I will do what I can to alleviate the weight on your shoulders."

"All due respect, Professor, but it's my burden to bear," Harry said. Snape frowned, and prepared to argue. "I _will_ come to you," Harry admitted. "I'll have to, as I have no one else I can really trust. Even Ron isn't safe, nor Luna. But when I do, I won't expect you to shoulder my burden; _couldn't_ expect you to do that. It was me who started this silent war that's torn a rift through Hogwarts, even if it was accidentally done, and it must be me to end it."

Snape scowled. "Bullshit, Potter. You've done nothing, except to suffer the consequences of events that unfolded around you. Whether or not you expect me to shoulder your burden is irrelevant. It is not for you to decide whether or not I can, and I offer my assistance without question or hesitation. You will need someone to lean on when the weight grows too heavy, and I am more than willing to fulfill that role. You have little choice in this. If you do not come to me, then I will come to you."

Harry wanted to argue, to be brave and strong in the face of Snape's resilience, but he found he couldn't. It was _tiresome_ , being the one to carry the world on their shoulders. If Snape could help, even the slightest bit, if he was willing to listen and sympathize, then Harry would take what he could. It was time to stop pretending he was some sort of war hero, and start realizing that even heroes needed a shoulder to cry on every now and again. And Snape, if what had happened so far was a basis for comparison, could fill that role admirably.

"Thank you," Harry said softly.

Snape smirked again. "It's good to see you're capable of getting over your foolish Gryffindor tendencies. There may be hope for you yet, Potter. Get dressed, we will go as soon as you're ready."

Harry nodded and shifted to the edge of his bed. His ribs felt a million times better. His arm, which was bandaged carefully, still smarted, but he suspected Snape already had more potions waiting for him, to alleviate the pain and heal the flash burn he'd received. It may take a few hours, or even days if the burn was bad enough, but Harry could live with that. At least he'd walked away with his life.

The younger wizard smirked as he buckled himself into his leather outfit, shifting his wings around and using his tail in place of his injured left forearm. McGonagall was right; he was rife with dumb luck. A glance at his reflection in the window by his bed had the smirk slipping the slightest bit. He reached up and flicked one of his badger ears. Sometimes, he was forced to wonder exactly what sort of luck he had. He seemed to have both good and bad in equal parts.

 _-Break-_

Harry sighed in utter boredom as he wandered the snowy grounds of Hogwarts. Thanks to his connection to the castle, he'd fallen incurably ill the day following Christmas. Snape had rushed him back through the floo as soon as he'd determined what was wrong. He'd been angry, too. Not because Harry had disrupted his vacation further, but because he'd tried to hide his sickness behind false cheer. The man, perceptive genius that he was, had seen right through his bullshit after only a couple of hours.

Dumbledore, of course, had been thrilled to have them back in the castle. So had Madame Pomfrey, for that matter, as she'd immediately commissioned Snape for restocking the Hospital Wing. Apparently, they had left just in time for half of the remaining students to stage a mock battle in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and everyone involved had walked away injured. Harry was just glad they'd all walked away, and he'd cornered those kids who'd taken his side in the war to berate them for doing something so stupid without a teacher's supervision. Now everyone was avoiding him, afraid of facing his ire, or just afraid of him in general, and Snape was so busy he hadn't even answered his door the two times Harry had worked up the courage to knock. Even Hagrid had left to visit the Headmistress of Beauxbaton.

Feeling bereft with no one to talk to, Harry took to the skies above Hogwarts. He circled the Black Lake three times, and then flew as far away from the school as he could, stopping only when he felt he was near the dome of Hogwart's wards. From there, he circled the perimeter of the school, diving in and out of the Forbidden Forest. He stopped when he captured the eye of a Dark Creature he had no interest in tangling with. He had quite enough to deal with already, he didn't need another visit to the Infirmary on top of everything. Snape would probably kill him, once he emerged from his rooms, if he wound up back in the Hospital Wing for the second time in as many weeks.

Only when Harry saw the carriages coming down the road from Hogsmeade, did he turn towards home. Rather than entering through the front doors, from which he'd left, he turned instinctively towards the Astronomy Tower. It was a longer walk back to the Slytherin dorms, but the Astronomy Tower had become his secret place of sorts. He'd hardly landed when Snape came out of the door onto the tower.

"You'll catch your death, flying in this weather."

Harry frowned and it was then that he realized it had started snowing again at some point. He shrugged. "I like the cold," He admitted. "What are you doing up here? I thought you were busy with your potions."

Snape smirked and crossed the tower to stand at the rampart, staring out over the approaching caravan of carriages. "I was looking for you, actually." He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes beckoning, and Harry moved to stand beside his Head of House. "The Headmaster has decided, in his infinite wisdom, that Dennis Creevey will return to classes. He's been reprimanded, and he'll be serving detentions every weekend for the rest of the year, but since we can't prove he intended to kill you without the use of Veritaserum, we are forced to treat his attack as if you were any other student."

Harry sighed, leaning forward on the rampart. "Alright."

They were silent for several long moments. And then…

"I'm sorry."

Harry physically started at this. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Snape repeated. "You came to see me, and I was so consumed by my work that I was unable to fulfill the role I assigned myself."

Harry blushed. "That's okay. You've got other responsibilities than looking after me. How-how did you know I came to see you?"

Snape smirked. "I have wards on my doors for a reason. Unfortunately, you have a talent for timing your interruptions at the most inopportune moment. Had I not been so busy, I'd have come to find you sooner. Was there something in particular you sought me for?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, nothing really important. The first time, I only came by because my arm was itching really badly where my burn had been, but that went away after a few hours. Today I came by because I…I'm worried. I have this horrible feeling that things are soon to come to a head, and I just needed you, or someone, to tell me I'm being an idiot."

"I would never dare to call you an idiot," Snape said softly. "Trust your instincts, Potter. They've saved your life in the past, and they will continue to serve you well."

"That's not really what I wanted to hear," Harry groused.

Snape nudged his shoulder before wrapping an arm around the shivering form. "I said I would be here to offer assistance. I will not, however, coddle you."

Harry leaned into the warm embrace, smiling despite himself. "Thanks. And thanks for spending Christmas with me. It was nice having someone besides Remus around, especially when he started in on his research. I like Defense, but even I don't want to hear about it all the time."

Snape's only response was to shrug as if it were nothing. They stood like that at the parapet of the Astronomy Tower until it was time for dinner. Harry went to bed that night, the knot of doubt still tangled sharply in his mind over what was to come, but content in the knowledge that he wouldn't have to face it alone. He, like many of the other students, was utterly unaware of the absences until the following morning.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry tumbled so clumsily into Snape's office that the man stood from his desk and was halfway around it as if he intended to catch him. The younger wizard looked up with watery eyes at the blur of his Head of House.

"Is it true that Hermione didn't come back?" He demanded, blinking away his tears. A few escaped to roll down his cheeks, and he watched the older wizard hesitate. "Please…don't be like them. Tell me the truth. Is she gone?"

Snape sighed, looking away from his imploring gaze. "Miss Granger is…missing," He answered softly.

Harry felt more tears threaten as his heart clenched. His breathing became shallow, and he could feel his magic teetering on the edge of instability. "This…this is all my fault," He gasped. "It was just supposed to be a joke, and now she's with _him_."

Snape stepped forward. "With who, Harry?"

Harry felt his knees try to buckle and he forced himself to remain standing. "Her puppet master, whoever he is," He explained. "She'd never have become this person if it weren't for someone else pulling on her strings. I could've-could've done something, tried to fix things with her. Instead I've driven her into his arms!"

"Harry, this is _not_ your fault," Snape said firmly. "As far as anyone knows, they've been planning this since your accident."

"But what if they weren't?!" Harry demanded, feeling anger leap into the turmoil of emotions rushing through his veins, his muscles clenching as his tail flicked dangerously and his ears clamped down on his head. "What if _my_ stupid gag, before she left, only hardened her heart?!"

Snape pulled him into a tight embrace. "Harry, you cannot keep blaming yourself for the choices of those around you."

Harry let himself be held, clinging desperately to the thick black robes that hung off his Head of House. He felt his anger receding, leaving only despair. When he thought he could, he looked up with a sniffle. The tumultuous roar of blood in his ears became deafening, as he stared into the fathomless black gaze. He had never noticed how those eyes shimmered like polished obsidian, or how their depth complimented the man's features perfectly. And his mouth seemed perfectly shaped, crooked though it was.

The Boy Who Lived started when he realized he'd been leaning up towards that gaze and those lips. He drew away, his wings folding against his back from where they had been stretching to encompass them both. He didn't miss the hurt that flashed across the aristocratic features, quickly buried under the typically stoic mask.

Snape cleared his throat and took his own step back. "Miss Granger is not the only absentee student," He admitted gently. "A few others failed to return on the train, or have vanished from the grounds, including the Creevey brothers."

Harry felt his despair and panic crash back over him like a tidal wave as this news sunk in. He curled in on himself, his wings huddling against his shoulders as his arms wrapped around his middle, warding off a cold he felt in his bones.

"What…what have I done?"

Snape hesitated before pulling Harry into another embrace. This time, Harry recognized the strange desire that threatened to overwhelm his anguish. He shoved it aside in lieu of returning the hug. His arms snaked around the man's middle, his wings unfolding to wrap around the entangled duo, and his tail relaxed against his furry legs after so long twitching in misery. Harry sighed into the embrace. A part of him, which lived to hope, thought perhaps everything might be okay, so long as he remained here. The rest of him, aged beyond his years, was not so naïve, and he knew that this must pass, and the world would come crashing down again. And Hermione would return, with her small army of deserters, to restore her vision of perfection.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry realized in the following weeks that that small flash of desire he'd felt toward Snape, towards Severus, would not be as easily extinguished as his other emotions, nor was it anywhere near fully grown. The more time he spent around his new Head of House, the more the urge to kiss the man grew. Harry wished desperately to have Hermione back as his friend. She would understand this, she would explain it. And if it could be explained, then it could be explained away.

But alas, there was no sign of Hermione or her fellow deserters. They had vanished, and though many looked, including the majority of the Order outside the school, they could not be found. For weeks Harry waited to hear some news. His strange attraction towards the Potions Master of Hogwarts was not enough to keep him from going to the man each day, pleading for news of his wayward friend. None came. Severus insisted that, in this case, no news really was good news, but Harry could not bring himself to believe it. In his experience, no news spelled out death waiting in the wings. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that this brewing unrest would end in anything else.

And so, it was with little surprise when Hogwarts was attacked. The majority of the students had been at dinner, or on their way there, when the wards first fell. There was no explanation, in the heat of battle, as to how it was managed. The younger students, the ones who were not even preparing for their NEWTs yet, were removed to their dorms. The elder students, who refused to be treated as children, took to the grounds with the professors, with Harry at the fore, gliding through the air with a frozen heart. Hermione had returned, and she had brought more than the deserters.

Death Eaters attacked alongside the missing students, leading them into a battle they couldn't hope to win. The first explosion came from within the castle and demolished a part of the Great Hall. The second blew open the wall that protected Ravenclaw, no doubt killing or injuring dozens of the children within. The third explosion toppled the Astronomy Tower, and there was no way to know who had been caught in the fall of debris, either friend or foe.

Harry watched all of this in the periphery as he fought hard against the two ringleaders, Dolotrov and Rookwood. How they had been missed in the Ministry's sweep of Death Eaters, Harry didn't know, but he took them on gladly. It was they who had poisoned his friend, not only against him, but against herself. Rookwood, who'd admitted laughingly that Hermione had been an easy target, fell first. Dolotrov, suffering from a bleeding wound on his handsome face, fell next, when he taunted Harry with questions about whether _he_ had hoped to take her virginity, and how sweet it had been to indulge in an untouched innocence like Hermione's.

As soon as his targets had been dispatched, Harry took to the air. He flew across the grounds of Hogwarts, surveying the damage and the little battles that made up the whole. He knew he should land, should assist in the fight, if not in helping the wounded, Ron among them, but his mind focused on one thing alone. Where was Severus? He knew the man had been near the greenhouses, thankfully far from the fallen Astronomy Tower, but the man's familiar silhouette was missing from that area now. Harry looked around desperately, his cat eyes scanning each face for the prominent nose and infinite onyx gaze. Finally, he spotted the man, illuminated by the flames that had engulfed the debris outside the Great Hall, on a hill very near the center of the battle. Harry started towards him before recognizing his opponent. It was Hermione, and they were both injured.

Harry's cat eyes saw the spell as it began to form on Hermione's lips. It wasn't an Unforgivable, but it might as well have been. It was a spell that consumed the soul, almost like a Dementor's kiss, and it was deadly to the injured. Unthinkingly, Harry shot down into a sharp dive, landing between Severus just as the streak of shimmering jet black left Hermione's wand. He cast the most powerful shield he could summon. The black rebounded carelessly, and Harry realized too late what his thoughtlessness had wrought.

"Hermione, move!"

But there was no time, and the girl was still stunned by his appearance in the midst of her battle. She didn't move, and the spell struck her chest. Her scream rent the air as she fell back. Within seconds, the light of her life had been extinguished, engulfed by the slithering jet that absorbed the light of the fire that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry cried out uselessly.

"Hermione!"

His cry became a single, guttural howl, an outpouring of the pain that consumed him as he stared at his friend's lifeless body. He collapsed to his knees, fingers clawing at the blood-soaked grass. He felt an arm curl around his limp wings as Snape knelt beside him. He let himself be drawn into the firm embrace as he felt his heart begin to die in his chest. Hogwarts burned behind them, and his fellow students fell at the hands of Death Eaters or their peers, but Harry couldn't muster enough to care. He wept stoically into Snape's black embrace, and allowed the darkness to consume him.


	13. Chapter 13

When Harry awoke, it was not slowly. He sat up in bed, startling the two people who held vigil over him. He shied away fearfully as he took in their figures. Ron was whole again, his broken limbs and gashes from debris-turned-shrapnel gone as if they had never been. Were it not for magic, this would be the work of miracles. But the most surprising thing was Hermione, whose hand the redhead held over his body. Hermione was here, alive, and staring at him with her utmost concern and love.

Harry reached out with shaking hands and drew the girl to him in a fierce hug. His wings folded over her even as he reached out with one hand to curl around his other friend's fingers. "You're both okay," He murmured tearfully.

Ron frowned in confusion as Hermione pulled away. "Us?" Hermione asked thoughtfully. "Harry, it's _you_ every one's been worried about. You've been in a coma for a week, after some sort of seizure. We've been so worried."

Harry frowned now in his own confusion. "So…I'm not bound to the school, with the magic of the four Founders?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "No…you are. But how could you…" Her brow relaxed as understanding lit her eyes. "You must've heard the professors speaking. They've been in and out almost constantly, even Snape, if you can believe that."

"Yeah, the git has been forcing potions down your throat trying to reverse your transformation. They, him and the other professors, only gave up about two days ago, when they announced that your change was, as far as they know, permanent," Ron inserted helpfully. "The rest of the world has already had their go, but Rita Skeeter released a special article, with Hermione's help, reminding everyone that _Merlin_ had three magical cores when he died."

Harry felt his breathing become shallow as realization finally struck. He looked at Hermione pleadingly, and the girl, who was still his friend after all, immediately understood. She got up from the uncomfortable-looking chair and gestured at Ron. The boy stared at her stupidly, and she cleared her throat delicately, gesturing more obviously at the closed curtains around Harry's bed.

"We should go let Madame Pomfrey know you're awake," She said aloud. Ron opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp look had him following with slumped shoulders.

Harry relished the solitude when they were gone. He could have his panic attack in peace. And he did. It was small, he had learned as a child to control these moments of overwhelm, but there was no stopping it completely. He slowly regained his breathing, and forced his mind to focus.

None of it had happened. It had all been in his head; Hermione's betrayal, his changing of Houses…Severus…had all been in his imagination. He was still transformed into a monstrous representation of the Four Founders, he was still connected to the school irreparably, but everything else was naught but a terrifying dream. But…it had been so real.

In that moment, Harry decided he would keep what had happened in his coma to himself. No one could know what his mind had created. Hermione would be so hurt, if she knew what he thought her capable of, and everyone else would undoubtedly take it as an omen. The Wizarding World had made an art of collectively thumbing their nose at prophecy while simultaneously living in constant fear of it. It would sow chords of discord throughout the entirety of Wizarding Britain, were his fantastical dream come to light. And, as a result of keeping it to himself, Harry knew he had to put it aside. The memories were still fresh, especially the battle, and the Christmas he had spent with Severus…with Snape, but hopefully they would fade in time, as all dreams eventually do. They had to, if he was going to survive this falsehood.

 _-Break-_

A week later, Harry was back at classes. Most of the school seemed in awe of him, even the Slytherins snuck admiring glances at him in classes and corridors, but for the most part he was treated the same as always. It was McGonagall, and not Snape, who approved Harry's new dress, which he ordered almost exactly as he had in his dream. The one difference, a large one in Harry's mind, was that instead of black he ordered the Gladiator-esque garb in crimson. Ron thought it an ode to Gryffindor, since he couldn't wear his crested robes, but Harry only kept seeing the blood that had splashed on him in his imagined battle for Hogwarts. Blood would stand out less in crimson.

It wasn't only this that disrupted Harry's day-to-day. He was starting to notice things that hadn't been there before. He had to catch himself, almost smiling at Draco…at Malfoy…each time their eyes met. He shied away from Hermione, too. It was impossible not to see the confused hurt in her eyes, but he couldn't seem to stop doing it. And he had tried. The dream had yet to fade, along with his feelings, especially towards Hermione and Snape.

"Harry, pay attention," Hermione whispered harshly, elbowing him.

Harry glowered at the witch, and fought an overwhelming urge to shout in her face to bloody well leave him alone. He turned instead to listening to Snape drone on about dragon ingredients. The anger was new, too. He'd begun to feel it's first thunderous tendrils almost as soon as he'd woken. He'd so far managed to control it when it came, but he worried constantly that the next time he wouldn't bite his tongue fast enough. Luckily, it wasn't just aimed at Hermione; it seemed to be aimed at everyone. He could live with that. The more people encompassed in his anger, the less likely he would finally snap at one of his friends.

"Potter!"

Harry sat up from his slouch. "Sir?"

"How does one best store dragon heart?"

Harry paled. Why the hell hadn't he been paying attention? Hermione's hand shot into the air, but it went ignored. Harry was reminded of his first ever class, and he felt the same terror he'd felt then clench coldly at his insides. He shook his head, a blush rising on his cheeks.

Snape's black gaze narrowed. Harry still thought his eyes looked like polished obsidian, especially now, when they were lit from within by anger. "Detention, for not paying attention. Merlin knows how you earned a grade good enough to be in my class, but I will not have you wasting my time. Malfoy, switch seats with Potter." Harry paled further. Malfoy was at the front of the class. Snape noticed and smirked. "The better for keeping my eye on you."

Reluctantly, Harry stood up and moved to the front of the room. He swallowed a monstrous urge to strangle the blonde Slytherin who intentionally bumped into him on his way by. He set his things at his new seat and sat on the stool, pointedly ignoring the obscure Slytherin he'd been put next to. He glared at the desk as Snape continued.

"You will remain at that seat for the rest of term. Let us hope it has some effect on your dismal grades thus far."

Harry continued to scowl at his new desk, refusing to raise his gaze lest Snape see the tears burning at the back of his swimming green eyes. A week later, and it still hurt like a knife to his chest to be treated so callously by the Head of Slytherin. Of everything, he thought it was this that hurt the most. He did his best to swallow his grief, but he couldn't stop them all. A single tear slipped from his eye, over the crest of his nose. He watched it dangle at the tip, and dared not swipe it away lest someone suspect. Finally, it fell, sinking almost immediately into the unpolished wood grain of his desk. He stared at the spot, memorizing it even as it began to disappear entirely. He didn't know, _couldn't_ know, but that small tear stain, invisible to the rest of the world, would become his point of focus, the small thing that would allow him to get through this, the worst of his trials: Potions class.


	14. Chapter 14

A month later, it was Christmas. The castle was filled to the brim with cheer, and Harry dared not stay within it as he recalled too clearly the Christmas from his dream, the one he had spent with Severus. Unfortunately, as in his dream, Sirius had gone off to Merlin-knew-where, so he wasn't allowed to return to Grimmauld with only Remus to watch him. Dumbledore said, as he explained this very patiently, that the full moon was to occur on the Holiday, and it just wouldn't be safe for him, even with the potion. Harry struggled not to argue that the potion had been more than enough for the Headmaster's peace of mind when that same werewolf had been in a school full of children. It wouldn't matter, whatever he argued. He had no one to fight on his side this time.

Instead, Harry had taken to the sky every day. Immediately following breakfast, he would fly until the sky began to darken; only occasionally did he take refuge on the Astronomy Tower, or in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest where the Thestrals generally gathered. In these private, secret places, he would practice the spells he had learned in the night. Something no one knew was that he had begun taking his father's cloak to the Restricted Section. There, he took it upon himself to learn weirder and weirder magicks. He had even discovered Dumbledore's strange ability to detect him even under his Invisibility Cloak. It wasn't him Dumbledore had seen, but his magic. Harry practiced this often, and by Christmas he was able to detect other people's magic almost instantly.

He'd also begun acting foolishly. More than normal, in any case. Sometimes, when he grew bored with flight, he would fly as high as he could go and then simply tuck his wings in. He would let himself tumble towards the ground, always falling just a little bit farther, wondering how far he could fall before his wings wouldn't catch him. It wasn't like diving. In a dive, he was aimed at the ground perfectly, and at an angle, so he had only to open his wings and let the wind carry him away. But when he fell, there was no control. He tumbled head over feet for the first hundred feet or so before he could straighten out. Every now and again, he would even let himself tumble further, wondering just how far he had to fall before his velocity kept him from regaining his life-saving balance.

Harry was doing just such a maneuver when he was caught. He'd just pulled out of his tumble, his wings carrying him mere feet above the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, when Snape appeared on the school broom he and Hooch used to referee Quidditch matches. Snape didn't have to yell for him to land, they both knew that that was what he wanted. Harry seriously considered flying away, pretending he hadn't seen the man at all, but he couldn't stay in the air forever. He would have to land eventually, and, always assuming Snape didn't follow him until he did land, the man would catch him then, and probably be twice as angry.

With a sigh that the rushing wind ripped from his mouth, Harry turned towards the lake and landed on it's frozen bank. Snape followed not far behind, and when he landed his scowl had not changed. He marched over to Harry angrily, and the fire in his eyes was such that Harry wondered if the man might not hit him.

"What are you thinking, Potter? Are you aiming for a broken neck?"

Harry flinched, but he didn't answer as Snape came to a stop a mere foot from him. He swallowed the flash of desire that struck at his heart like lightning. The man was damned _gorgeous_ when he was angry.

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Snape demanded.

Harry remained silent, staring at the toes of his paws as his claws slipped out to scratch nervously at the gravel he stood on. Why couldn't Snape just let him alone?

Snape moved closer, and gripped Harry's chin in his hand. It wasn't hard, wasn't bruising, but nor was it a kind gesture. He snarled into Harry's face. "If I catch you doing something so reckless again, I will personally supervise the detentions you'll be serving every night until the Leaving Feast. Am I understood, Mister Potter?"

Harry swallowed thickly as emotions warred in his heart. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to stretch up the few inches that stood between them. On the other, he wanted to cry for the cruel and clinical feel of Snape's fingers on his jaw. In the end, the tears won, as Snape's eyes flickered over his face angrily. They welled up in Harry's stark emeralds before he could stop them, and stung harshly before rolling down his cheeks. The surprise in Snape's eyes was unmistakable. Taking the opportunity presented, Harry wrenched free of Severus' hard grasp and took off into the air, his wings beating desperately towards the one place he felt truly safe. He landed on the Astronomy Tower, and there, as he sat on the edge of his two-fold world, he wept.


	15. Chapter 15

As if Fate delighted in dashing Harry's hopes, a return of the students did not herald a return to normalcy. He still held a secret distrust towards those around him. Hermione had become cautious around him, as if she sensed the anger he kept tightly reigned. Malfoy seemed to sense it as well, and made a point of pushing him to the very limits of his control nigh-on daily. Snape was, as always, a conundrum. He hadn't said or done anything since their unfortunate meeting on the beach of the lake, but neither had Harry done anything to draw his attention. He had stopped, as far as Snape knew, risking his neck in death-defying flight maneuvers.

It was on the unknown anniversary of Harry's imagined battle that things finally came to a head, in the very way he had hoped it wouldn't. From the moment he awoke to find the date he had dreaded, he had been in a peculiar mood. He was, in equal turns, snappish and mopey. His friends, who had already begun giving him a wide berth, widened this circle even more. Even the professors did their best to steer clear of him. All except the one who perhaps should have most of all.

"Potter!"

Harry lifted his head from where he'd been staring at his desk, the fog of depression that had settled around him evident to any who looked. "Sir?"

Snape glowered from the front of the room. "What have I told you about paying attention in my class?"

Harry felt the first lick of anger, and did his best to smother it under the depression, which was by far easier to deal with. "I was, Professor."

Snape's eyebrow rose dubiously. "Then tell me, Potter," He spat the name as if it had befouled his tongue. "What would I get if I were to combine these two ingredients here?"

Harry didn't have to look at the ingredients. "You would get a cough salve. If you combined them with the third ingredient, you'd have the antidote to Wizard's Flu." And, because he couldn't help himself, he added, "We covered this in Fifth Year, _Professor_ ; it's all common knowledge to us by now."

Snape's glare deepened. "Detention, for your lip, Potter." He turned back to the rest of the class, obviously intending to continue his lecture on the fourth ingredient that would turn the cure for Wizard's Flu into a deadly poison that would weaken any opponent who so much as touched it.

Harry, however, didn't let him. "Fuck that," He muttered moodily. He could feel his anger beginning to surge again, but, tired as he was of fighting it, this time he did nothing to dampen it. Snape rounded on him.

"Excuse me?"

Harry scoffed. "I said 'fuck that'," He repeated, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'm done being your little maid. If you want your cauldrons clean, you can bloody well do it yourself."

"That's twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and another detention."

Harry scoffed again. "Assign as many detentions as you like, I won't be showing up for any." Hermione elbowed him, and he looked at her. "And you can leave me the fuck alone, too." When he turned back, Snape was standing in front of their desk. Damn, he was fast…and quiet.

"Potter," The man growled, leaning on the desk. "I don't know what has gotten into you, nor do I care. You will follow instructions, and you will appear for your assigned punishment, _whatever_ that may be, or you will leave my classroom, never to return."

Harry glowered back for a moment, before reaching down and picking up his bag. He slung the strap over his shoulder, being careful of his wing, and stood up. "Fine."

"Harry, no!" Hermione gasped.

Harry ignored his friend and turned down the aisle between the desks. He didn't turn when Snape spoke again.

"Granger, you're in charge until I return. I find I must escort your friend to the Headmaster's office."

Harry was fine. He was grand, actually. He had finally found a way to distance himself from Snape completely. By leaving the class, he could perhaps find some small measure of peace. So he was just fine…until he felt Snape's hand on his arm, probably intending to drag him out of the room. The minute he felt that long-fingered grip, however, which had, once upon a dream, been so much comfort, he felt his tenuous hold on sanity snap. He turned and pushed Snape away. It wasn't hard, the man only stumbled back a step or two, but it was enough.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" He screamed. "Don't you ever touch me, you _snake_! I trusted you!"

It wasn't until the words had left his mouth that Harry realized what he'd said, how close he had come to revealing his dark secret, to revealing the frightful world that still haunted his dreams each night. The sound of blood rushing through his ears was deafening as Harry fought the urge to cover his mouth in shame. And then there were the eyes; a sea of eyes staring at him in surprise and wonder. There was no explanation, ready or otherwise, to excuse this seemingly harmless slip of the tongue. The room froze, everyone wondering what Harry meant, and what could cause him to strike out at their most fearsome professor. Harry froze with them as Snape stared at him in shock. As if in slow motion, Harry saw Snape's hand reaching out to him again. He didn't give the man the chance. Using his more powerful legs, he bolted from the room, the door slamming open thanks to his uncontrolled magic.

He ran. As far as he could, as fast as he could, Harry ran until he found himself in the Forbidden Forest. He had never traveled to the Thestral clearing on foot, but he chose to now. He was too upset to fly, and he knew instinctually that he would more than likely crash and burn if he tried. So he ran through the forest, and for once he felt the slightest hint of peace, even as this peace delivered a fresh wave of despair. He was where he belonged. The Forest was home to Dark Creatures, and now he knew for sure. He was one of them.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry twisted the quill-like dagger in his hand. He was sitting fearlessly on the edge of the Astronomy Tower. It seemed stupid, considering what he was now contemplating, but he hadn't wanted to stay in the Forest after dark. His dagger glistened in the torchlight cast by the single torch beside the tower's only door. It had been the first thing he'd found to transfigure. He was still having trouble with the metals, but he had managed it this time. As much as the dagger still looked like a quill, it was still a razor-sharp steel blade.

Harry ran the pinnate blade over his wrist, testing it. It bit into his skin, and small beads of blood began to well up where the knife had split his flesh. Applying a little more pressure, Harry ran the blade over his wrist again. More blood this time, and not only beads but a full line of red. He had only to do it again, deeper, and both worlds would disappear forever.

Without warning, Harry felt himself being dragged backwards by a hand that had grasped the Y strap between his wings. His claws scraped across the stone parapet as he was dragged off. His feet found the ground roughly, and even before he could right himself, his makeshift dagger had been plucked from his fingers and tossed unceremoniously across the tower. Harry heard it clatter across the stone as he stood before his Potions Master.

And then he was being shaken, whether in anger or desperation, he didn't know. A glance up through his fringe showed Snape snarling at him. He observed this with disinterest and turned his face away. Why couldn't he just be left alone?

"What the hell are you thinking, Potter, you selfish boy?!"

Harry mumbled. "This place…" The dismal air of disinterest broke then, and the dam with it. Tears flooded over Harry's cheeks as he sobbed hard enough to weaken his stance. Strong arms wrapped around him, following him down as he collapsed to his knees. "I just want to go back!"

Snape held onto him tightly. "What _happened_ to you, Potter?"

Should he? _Could_ he? After everything, all the pain of the last few months, did he dare reveal that which haunted him most? Harry considered this very carefully, in the span of a heartbeat. In the end, it was the feel of Snape's arms around his shoulders which convinced him. It was so like his vision.

Harry sniffled and began to explain what had occurred in his dream. No detail was too small to be covered. He ended with his feelings for the man wrapped around him.

"I loved you," Harry gasped. "There, in that world, I loved you, and I think there was a chance you might have loved me back. It's so hard, knowing what I had, what I lost…knowing that no one will _ever_ know the pain I've suffered, or the friendships I gained."

Snape sighed, but he didn't release his comforting hold. "Foolish Gryffindor. You should have come to me, as soon as you realized you weren't coping."

Harry felt his anger return, searing a hole through his despair. He pushed Snape away and stumbled to his feet. "Why?!" He demanded, his wings flexing dangerously. "What is it to you?! What am _I_ to you?! I'm nothing! And what could you have done?! I'm trapped between two worlds, and I feel like I don't belong in either!"

Turning away from the black concern, Harry prepared to take flight. Snape grabbed him. They struggled, Snape trying desperately to hold Harry on the roof of the Tower, and Harry desperately trying to leave it. Finally, Snape managed to get his arms around Harry's wings, preventing Harry's attempted escape. Harry still struggled, until…

"Potter, stop!"

The fear and sympathy in Snape's voice caused Harry to freeze. He stared blurrily up at the Potions Master. "Please," he begged. "Just let me go. I don't belong here, I don't belong _anywhere_ anymore. I can't-"

He was cut off by a swift kiss that had stars bursting behind his closed eyes. It was short, and to the point. When Snape pulled away, Harry could do nothing but stare in confusion. Where had that come from? The grip on his wings loosened, and a warm hand cupped his cheek before running through his hair and playfully tweaking one of his furry ears. Snape smirked.

"I can fix that," He murmured. He stared into Harry, stared _through_ him to what lie beneath. "Legilimens."

The memories from the dreams flashed through Harry's mind at break-neck speed. He remembered everything, from the moment he "woke", to the Battle for Hogwarts. Hermione's betrayal felt as fresh as it ever had, as did the friendships he'd gained and the love he had learned. And then, suddenly, they weren't at the fore anymore; he was watching them as if through a window, as if they were someone else's life.

When his vision cleared, Snape had to hold him up as his legs tried to give out.

"What-what did you do?" Harry gasped, looking up into the smirking gaze. "It's…it's gone, but…I still know it happened. Like something in a story…"

"It is a temporary fix," Severus murmured as Harry tried and finally succeeded at getting his feet under him. "You will still _feel_ everything, but it will seem as if you were merely waking from a bad dream. This will allow you to cope with the separation until it has had time to fade."

Harry stared at the man in wonder. "You-you can do that?"

Snape's smirk quirked slightly at the corner of his mouth. "Not legally," He explained. "No one is meant to take control over another's thoughts, as I just did, without express permission, and certainly not without guidance. In order for me to create that window in your mind, I had to experience your memories with you, just as you did."

Harry gaped. "B-but, all that pain…all _my_ pain…why would you do that?"

Snape leaned down again, his smirk slipping. This time Harry saw the kiss coming, and Snape allowed him to deepen it for a long, breathless moment. Harry's tail slithered around the man's waist, drawing him closer. Finally, Snape pulled away, laying his forehead against Harry's with a deep sigh.

"Ask me again once you've completed your schooling."

And with that, Snape was gone. Harry opened his eyes in time to see the door to the Astronomy Tower closing behind a flash of black robes. For a moment, he leaned heavily against the very parapet Snape had dragged him from. He couldn't help wondering what the hell that had been about, even as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the glow of being well and thoroughly kissed. And the conflicting memories, while still troublesome, were no longer all-consuming.

Harry walked to the other side of the tower and picked up his dagger. With a little bit of concentration, and a touch of magic, he held a proper quill again. He wouldn't need the dagger anymore. He glanced at his wrist, where his cuts had already clotted, and the blood that had seeped from them had dried. A few quick spells had the mark of his cowardice and turmoil dissolving into untouched skin. At last, everything felt like it would really be okay. At last, he had found peace.

A/N: If you ask really nicely, I _might_ be convinced into adding a new final chapter, where Harry does ask again once he's completed his schooling. But you've gotta be super nice about a story (this story) that I basically hate.

A/N: Last chapter posted. Enjoy. Don't complain.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry sighed as he stared out over the grounds of Hogwarts. The sinking sun had turned the lake into a pool of fire, and the grounds seemed to have an ethereal glow in its wake. It had been two days since his fellow students had gone from the school. He had wanted so badly to go with them, in part because he hated the idea that he was trapped here forever, love the school as he did, but mostly because, had he been able to leave with them, it'd have been excuse enough to avoid going to the dungeons.

It had been a few weeks since his…waking, here on the Astronomy Tower, since Snape had fixed his tumultuous thoughts. His friends noticed, but he could hardly have explained the change, even if they'd known about his turmoil to begin with. For the first week it had been nice to think of the kisses he had shared with the man, nice to pretend he could still feel the heat of him so near to his own, deformed body. After that, much like the sun sinking beyond the horizon now, his desire and happiness waned. His feelings were unchanged, but his perceptions…now _there_ lay the problem.

Harry turned at the sound of the nearby door opening, and blushed when the very subject of his thoughts stepped from the shadows cast by the door's eave. He turned quickly away, and briefly considered taking off. Had his gaze not found those glistening onyx, he might have even done so. Stubbornness and pride kept him on the ledge of the parapet, though, his wings tucked tightly against his shoulders. He pretended not to notice has his breathing quickened with the approach of those clicking heels.

"Are you not frightened, to sit so close to the edge?"

Harry shook his head and flexed his wings lightly. "Thanks to my dream, and a bit of recklessness, it's as if I've had these forever. I could fall or jump, and catch myself on the slightest breeze. Are you envious?"

Snape scoffed. "Unlike in your dream, I do not love or revel in flight. I am not frightened of heights, but I do not make a habit of seeking them out."

"Oh," Harry murmured, still refusing to look around at the man. "Then, what are you doing up here?"

There was silence for a moment, and when Harry chanced a look, almost expecting the man to be gone, he found black eyes watching him curiously. Sighing, he swung his deformed lion's legs around and leapt off of the parapet. He wondered if he could get away with just leaving, but when his eyes flickered in the direction of the door, gentle fingers touched his chin. He pulled away and turned, wrapping his arms around his thankfully human middle.

"Why have you come?" He demanded.

"Because you did not," Snape answered in his rumbling voice.

Harry sighed again. "I…I couldn't."

"Why not?" Snape asked.

Harry turned and smiled humorlessly. "You don't love me," He told the man. "You don't even like me. I didn't come to you because… I have to accept that the Severus Snape I created in my dream doesn't exist, that that isn't who you are."

"And I must accept that… It could be."

"What?" Harry asked, suddenly cross. He scowled at the man, but Snape only gave what might have been a smile on a less imposing face.

"I have desired to change for many years, long before you ever came to Hogwarts," Snape admitted. "But I didn't know how. If I get nothing else from you, I know that I have glimpsed the man I could be, given the chance."

Harry frowned. "What chance?"

" _Our_ chance," Snape said, entirely serious. "I may not yet know if I am capable of loving again, but I do know that I want to explore that possibility with you, if you will let me."

Harry sighed. "Since when, though?" He inquired mournfully, looking away. "Since my dream, right? Since you lived my dream with me? I can't do that, Snape. I wouldn't know if what you felt was real and… neither would you. So don't ask me to do that."

Those cool, gentle fingers were on his chin again, lifting his gaze back up to meet obsidian. "I think, under the circumstances, you may call me 'Severus'," He said.

Harry continued to frown.

"And you are right," The Potions Master admitted. "I have begun to feel for you since your dream."

Harry opened his mouth, but Severus continued.

"Not since I _shared_ your dream, however, but since you first had it."

"I don't understand," Harry breathed in confusion.

Severus smirked. "I was among the other professors when you first transformed. We studied your body, discovered your scars and bruises from the hard life you have led in secret. It was then that I realized there was so much more to you than being the Boy Who Lived, the spawn of my childhood nemesis. Nearly every night until you woke, after your friends had gone, I would come to sit beside you. In those hours, I had much time to think. You are a kind, gentle soul, for all the darkness you have seen. You give without expecting anything in return, and I envy the goodness I see in you. That envy, in the wee hours of the morning, turned to care. Given time, I do not doubt that the care I feel for you will turn to love, even without your consent. You are a beautiful creature, like the angels my mother used to teach me of."

Harry blushed. "I'm not beautiful. I'm a freak of nature."

The fingers on his chin hardened. "You're not," Severus growled. "No matter what anyone says, not even you, will you ever be less gorgeous in my eyes. And I will spend whatever time you will give me teaching you to see all that I see in you."

Harry felt his gaze soften as the hold on his jaw relaxed. He smiled. He wanted so much to lean up and close the distance between them, wanted to take in all the beauty he saw in this man, who could see beauty in him. Severus seemed to read his thoughts, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss upon his lips. Harry smiled into the tender coupling, and felt his wings extend to encompass them both without his permission. He blushed again when Snape pulled away, smirking once again.

"Do you really think we have a chance?" Harry asked self-consciously.

Severus gave a single, slow nod. "I think we will lay the world at our feet, together."

Harry grinned. "Me, too."

He wrapped his arms around the stiff neck of his beloved Potions Master and drew him down into a kiss. Although things would be hard, perhaps even harder than he could dream, he knew they had this chance. It wasn't only a kiss, but a kiss of promise.


End file.
